


Below The Belt

by lifein10s



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Coming Out, F/F, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Lesbian Character, Love, Martial Arts, New York City, Past Sexual Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Sports, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 75,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifein10s/pseuds/lifein10s
Summary: "She can't be that person anymore, the force to be reckoned with. Now she's just leftovers of the what she used to be, a broken version of herself, one that wakes up every night silently screaming for help but is too damn proud to ask for it."In a desperate attempt to regain some sense of safety, a traumatized and hurt Regina packs up her things and leaves her life behind. Alone in the new city, she will find much more than just a place for her to pick up the pieces. Swan Queen AU.





	1. We're Not In Chicago Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is something I've been wanting to write about for a very long time. Let me start with this: this story is a creation of my imagination, therefore any mistakes or misrepresentation of the process are on me, though I believe every experience (generally in life) is different and relies mostly on the person experiencing it. With that said, if you still find yourself troubled over something I wrote, please let me know.
> 
> This story is about healing and rebuilding oneself, that's my main focus, at least at the beginning; so for those of you who came here solely for the romance, this story probably isn't the one for you. Please beware- if you find mentions of sexual assault, violence and mental distress triggering, continue with caution. 
> 
> All of you who are still here and willing, thank you for taking the time to read it! I do hope you'll enjoy this story, please let me know how you feel about it!
> 
> P.s- this story will be updated once a week. Hopefully ;)

**Chapter 1-**

**We’re Not In Chicago Anymore**

  


He glances at his wrist again. His face blank but his intentions are clear, nonetheless; time is passing and not a single word has yet been said.

She takes a shallow breath, opting on making as little noise as possible. Maybe, he'll forget that she's there. Her hands fist in her lap, occasionally twisting. That is, until she realizes what she is doing, and then she stills them into knuckle-white balls again. Her back is straight as a board, her head held high. She knows her posture is the only thing she has left, and she holds on to it for dear life.

"Miss Mills?" he tries again and she brings her gaze up to meet his.

Once he has her attention he sighs and slumps a little against his chair.

"Look," he says "at the end of the day, it's your money. If you want to spend it by sitting here quietly, be my guest." 

He shoves his perched glasses up his nose. She noticed early on that they don't need fixing, however, it seems like a habit he'd acquired since it was at least the fourth or fifth time he has done it so far. 

"But my guess is that it's not what you want." He looks at her, eyes calm and inviting. She says nothing in return, and so he continues.

"You see, some of the people who come here are required to. Ex-cons, sexual offenders, troubled teens from juvy. Those are people that have no choice, they are here because if they don't, they'll be breaking court orders."

He leans forward to grab a glass of water and she has to stop herself from visibly flinching. He takes a sip and places it back on the table. When he leans back, she finally relaxes her taut form.

"But you're not like them" he states simply "you don't have to be here. It's your choice to be here which makes me think, assume even, that you're here because you want to."

She purses her lips. _Want_ wouldn't be the word she would use, but overall his statement is not far from the truth.

She wriggles in her seat, in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, giving up when she realizes the feeling of restlessness isn't physical.

"Okay" she grits out, the first thing she has said since she arrived, almost a half an hour ago.

His lips quirk up just a little and she's overcome with the urge to remain silent, just so he won't get his way. He is not the enemy, she's well aware, but it doesn't stop her from wanting to treat him like one. It seems a rather repetitive motif in her life these days, everyone is the enemy, and therefore, treated like one.

There's another stretched silence, but eventually, she gives up.

"What do you want to know?" her gaze jumps all over the room and she can't help but feel ashamed. She is pathetic. What happened to the fearless Regina Mills?

He shakes his head and she almost sneers. She has no idea why she finds him so annoying, but he just is.

"Whatever it is that you want to tell me" he replies and it's so damn condescending she wants to march out of the room and never look back.

When she says nothing else he pushes his glasses up, yet again, and gives it another try. 

"How about why you are here?" he inquires and every muscle in her body goes rigid. She gulps, trying and failing to fight a wave of nausea. 

He notices it fairly quickly, and immediately retreats.

"Let's try something more simplistic, shall we?" he smiles encouragingly "Tell me something, anything, about yourself."

  


***

  


She shoots up in her bed, petrified. She feels the hands clinging to her skin, claiming her, and desperately tries to shove them away. Every intake of breath is short and erratic as she pushes the blanket away from her sweaty form, searching for the demanding hands or their imprint on her skin. 

She finds nothing but the angry red lines, bloody, where her nails broke the skin.

Her heart is in her throat as she scrambles off the bed, knees crashing on the floor with a thud as a result of her legs getting tangled up in the blanket. She doesn’t pay attention to the waves of pain radiating from her knees as she grabs the blanket and rushes, still on all fours, to the corner of the room.

Once she's there, she reaches for the switch with a shaking hand. 

The light makes it slightly better. She tries to get her breathing under control while her eyes scan the empty room over and over again, looking for him.

Finally, after what feels like the hundredth scan, she slumps against the wall. Her body weak from the tremors, her throat dry from the harsh breathing, her brow soaked with cold sweat.

She hides behind the blanket like a little child, afraid of monsters that aren't there. Not anymore. 

It seems ridiculous, really, to use a thin piece of fabric as a shield but somehow it offers a comfort she can't find anywhere else at the moment. 

Then, she's thrown back to her childhood, to when her mother used to chastise her for being afraid.

_Don't be silly_ she would say with her signature sneer and disappointed look _monsters don't exist._

_They do_ she wants to scream now _and they're so much worse than you could ever imagine._

The room is awfully silent. It's awfully lonely as well, and she can't decide whether it's a good or a bad thing. 

The only sound heard is her still slightly irregular breathing and the clock's ticking. She finds comfort in listening to that repeating sound.

"It's just a dream" she whispers to herself "he's not here, he'll never be here"

The third time saying that seems to convince her just enough to close her eyes and sag against the wall, her head hitting the surface with a faint thud. Eventually, she gets up and turns on every light available. When she glances at the clock, she frowns; it's around 3 past midnight.

_Great_ , she thinks bitterly, a little over three hours of sleep. At least it's better than the night before. 

She walks around the apartment, the blanket still draped over her hunched form, protecting her. She checks every corner and every nook, re-locks the door and makes sure all the windows are sealed.

She makes her way to the kitchen, placing a mug on the counter while fishing for the coffee beans and the milk. She heats the milk and the water on the stove, a luxury she affords herself nowadays, and waits for the familiar shriek. 

Once it's boiling, she spills the ground powder inside and adds two table-spoons of sugar. She mixes it and turns off the gas, pours it to the large mug and places the used dishes in the sink. 

She positions herself on the couch, warm mug in hands, and turns the TV on. 

She won't be sleeping tonight.

  


***

  


Her phone buzzes, yanking her from her reverie.

She leans forward and tilts the phone to her direction. The screen is on with a message notification.

She slumps in her seat, her lower lip captured by her teeth as she opens the text.

_Kathryn- How are you?_

She sighs in defeat and closes her eyes.

Why does she have to keep trying?

She knows the answer to that; Kathryn is a friend, a friend who cares and one Regina hasn't talked to since the incident. Well, with the exception of one occasion. 

It was a couple of weeks after _th_ _at_ _night_ and Regina felt like she was on the verge of losing it. She knew there's no way she could keep this up, that it wasn’t going to get better unless she sought help, professional help.

She searched for professionals who specialized in that specific niche. And no matter how hard she dug, she couldn't find a female therapist in the area that fit her standards. 

It was around that time she decided distance would do her good. Taking a break and clearing her head were the initial reasons, but with all honesty, she just needed to disappear, from everything, from everyone. Get away from her friends, who kept asking too many questions. From her mother, whom she couldn't face. From him.

She changed the area of her searches from Chicago to New York and one name kept popping up. A professional, veteran in the field of sexual related assaults, discrete and most importantly, not intimidating looking. She stared at the picture in his website for hours; eyes jumping all over his features, from his red curls in desperate need of a trim to his kind eyes framed by vintage looking round glasses. 

She desperately wanted a woman, but that didn't seem to work out. Still, she wanted to be completely sure. Reluctantly, she picked up the phone and dialed Kathryn, whose husband, Fred, did investigating jobs for major law firms in Chicago.

Kathryn was ecstatic to hear from her. Regina didn't say much, practically throwing her social manners out the window, and simply asked for her help. Minutes later she had Fred's work phone number as well as his personal cell.

Her request was for him to find everything about the doctor, personally, ethically and professionally. She could sense the curiosity in his tone but he agreed to call her in a week. The test, as investigators like to call it, came back white; no apparent slips whether it's with the law or the ethical boundaries of his profession. There was one incident during college, regarding his participation in an unauthorized protest, and one regarding his lease but that’s about it.

She reached the end of the second page of the file and read the last paragraph. Seemingly irrelevant to most people but Regina couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled out as she sighed in relief. He would do.

She hadn't talked to Kathryn since, which is more than a little insensitive considering the help she provided Regina when she needed it most, all while avoiding prying or asking any questions. Regina appreciated it more than she showed. Still, it didn’t change the deep feeling of humiliation in general, and also specifically, knowing that after his research Fred probably had some clue about what it is that happened to her.

The phone buzzes again, announcing another incoming message.

_Kathryn- Please call me_

She stares at the text for a while before pressing the lock button and placing the phone back on the table, messages unanswered. 

  


***

  


She places her forehead against the cold tiled walls in the bathroom, sighing when the cold spreads over her heated skin; relieving her headache, even if just by little. 

There is no doctor needed for her to know why that is. The headaches, the black circles under her eyes, the mood swings, are all a result of her lack of sleep. In no circumstance three hours a night are enough for a human being to function, and surely not for her.

She opts for a pill and looks for something to snack on. She opens one cabinet after the other in search for something worthy of eating. Eventually, she finds some oatmeal. She shoves it in the microwave with the remains of her milk and some cinnamon and presses the start button.

She leans on the island and waits. She needs to go grocery shopping, she notes to herself, it's long past the point of avoidable. Her kitchen is practically empty. 

The ping of the microwave cuts her line of thought and she grabs the steaming bowl, mixes it a couple of times and dives in. Once she is done with the meal, she reaches the drugs' cabinet and retrieves a pack of Advil. She pops in two pills and downs them with water. 

She waits a little for the pills to start working their magic and then grabs a piece of paper and makes a list of all the things she has to buy.

  


***

  


_Come on._

She checks the closet again, no luck. She reaches the pile of recently folded clothes, fresh out of the laundry, and rummages through the fabrics in search for the shirt. She exhales in relief once her fingers sense the soft fabric of her beloved turtleneck. She pulls it out of the pile and wears it, immediately feeling the blessed sensation of protection washing over her. 

Just in case, she pulls her sleeveless jacket, large and terribly shapeless, on top. Then the slacks and the boots.

_There you go._

She checks herself in the mirror one last time before grabbing her purse, the shopping list and the three books she has to return to the library.

It's a sunny September day. Most of the people around her, at least the New Yorkers in the bunch, are all wearing short sleeves, some even short pants. 

Like any other day of the few times she actually steps out of her apartment, she's immediately haunted by the thought of sticking out. Her outfit is fall attire at best, if not winter. She's afraid of drawing unwanted attention, which nowadays is any type of attention.

But soon someone will pass by. Whether it's a ridiculous, barely clothed woman, or a make-up wearing, heels strutting man that makes her realize; New York doesn't care. It's still hard to think like they do, knowing that people aren't that forgiving in the frozen Chicago.

Still, her walk is fast and she arrives at the library in no time.

It's a small, public library located in Charles St.; a hidden treasure. It’s small, run by lovely volunteers and managed by Mrs. Heathers, an energetic old lady. They store mostly the classics, and unfortunately Regina has read them all. What she does enjoy is a little aisle in the back, filled with a weird mixture of British 18th century novels and new-age books. A paradox that, surprisingly, works quite well; diving into the old days of the kingdom and then indulging in some life changing perspectives written by what could only be described as the rebels of this century.

"Miss Mills" Heathers chirps when she enters the library, the open door pushes the bell into a jiggle.

"Regina, please" she corrects, nodding her hello as she approaches the desk. She places the books on the wooden surface and Heathers scans them into the system.

"Here for another batch?" she smiles warmly at Regina and the brunette returns a tight-lipped smile. The old librarian is the only one who seemed to pierce her high walls and wriggle her way inside. She suspects it's her unending care and warmth, yet lack of prying that make her tolerable in Regina's eyes, maybe even welcomed. And for Regina, who seems to hate the human kind as a whole these days, it's quite the progress. 

"Mhm" she smiles tightly, her fingers tapping impatiently.

"Go ahead, sweetheart" Heathers encourages and she slips away into the back of the shop. 

She spends a few minutes fishing out books that catch her eye.

She approaches the desk with a pile, four this time, and places them on the counter. 

"Four?" Heathers asks, eyebrows climbing up at the amount. Regina shrugs almost sheepishly, knowing the limit is three.

"Fine" the old woman relents without much resistance "bring them back by next Friday"

"Sure" she hoists them up and shoves them in her large bag. "Thank you Mrs. Heathers, have a good day."

"You too, honey"

The next stop is the grocery shop. She enters the blissfully deserted store. Thankfully, there aren't a lot of people during weekday mornings.

She piles up ludicrous amounts of dry food, so that she won't have to go grocery shopping for at least another three weeks. She knows she will have to come back for eggs and dairy products but at least the trip would be a lot shorter.

She stands in line, acknowledging the fact that so far she's been doing fine. Great, actually. But of course, she had to jinx it. As she scans the area, glancing towards the other cashier and the client he’s handling, she locks eyes with the man, the latter looking at her with a suggestive smirk plastered on his face. 

She swallows thickly as her stomach flips.

_It's only in your head._ She says to herself repeatedly, quickly averting her gaze.

When the cashier starts scanning her items she steals another look in his direction. He's still looking at her, eyes dropping to her form and slowly rising back up. And then, he winks at her. That action is enough to make her body go rigid and heart flutter in her chest.

She retrieves her purse, the act taking twice as long due to her violently shaking hands.

"Are you alright, Miss?" the cashier asks and she nods erratically, not bothering with a verbal answer.

When she finally gets a hold of her purse she pulls out three twenty dollar bills, a little over what she needs, and throws them on the counter. She grabs the bags hastily and rushes to the exit.

"Ma'am, you forgot your change" is called behind her but she doesn't bother to turn around.

She's practically running back to her apartment, which is, luckily, quite close. Her legs are twitching and her lungs are burning but she pays no mind to it. She steals a glance back every couple of seconds, each and every time finding no one behind her, especially not that man.

She knows in her head it was nothing more than a harmless flirtation, but apparently it's not enough to shake her body out of the panic attack that washes over her.

She reaches the apartment, carelessly releasing the bags of food to the ground. She ignores the thud the cans elicit upon hitting the floor and shoves a hand in her bag to retrieve the keys. After several attempts of trying to insert it in the hole and failing, she uses her other hand to stabilize herself. The key goes in and she almost gasps in relief. She grabs the bags and shoves them into the apartment. Closing the door after herself, she makes sure to lock both of the locks while leaning her side against the door.

She lets out a sigh.

_You're safe now._

She slides all the way to the floor and that's when she breaks into a hysterical cry, her entire body shaking as she gasps for air.

She remains seated on the floor long after the tears dry out, staring aimlessly at the wall from across the living room. 

Eventually, she gets up and fixes all the food in its rightful place. When she's done, she stands in her kitchen, purposeless, until she's shaken out of her daze.

Her eyes zero on her work desk and she moves quickly, opening the single drawer in search for the white card. She picks it up and stares at it for a good minute or so before grabbing her phone and dialing the number.

She takes a seat as the phone rings and waits for the other side to pick up.


	2. Peeling Layers

**Chapter 2-**

**Peeling Layers**

  


She sits silently as she waits for the clock hand to reach the 12 mark. 

She arrived at least fifteen minutes prior to the scheduled meeting, a result of punctuality mixed with nervousness, and now all she has left to do is wait. Time seems to stretch excruciatingly slowly when you wait for something. Dreading it at the same time makes it even worse. 

The receptionist, a mid-forties looking woman, gets up from her seat and rushes to the bathroom.

Of course, not a minute later the door opens and a patient leaves. Her eyes and nose are red and she holds a used tissue tightly with both hands, almost as if it's her anchor. She lowers her head and heads towards the elevator, eyes plastered to the floor.

"Martha, send the next patient in please" is heard from the room.

The request remains unanswered so he tries again.

"Martha?"

Dr. Hopper’s head pops out and he frowns when his gaze lands on the empty chair.

"She's in the ladies room" Regina provides blankly and he turns to look at her, surprised.

"Miss Mills?"

"Dr. Hopper" she nods in response.

"Are- are you here for a session?"

"Yes, in fact, I'm your next session" she provides while rising from her seat. She grabs her bag and looks at him expectantly.

He scratches the back of his neck, obviously caught off guard by her visit. Not that she can blame him. Her last attempt had been less than ideal if you take her running away mid-session under consideration. She wouldn't expect a revisit if she were him.

"Alright, then" he relents and gestures for her to follow him "Come on in" 

She follows him into the office. It's not large. One could even describe it compact. It also lacks any vision from a design point of view: the mid-dark mahogany desk sat in the corner, the beaten down sofa taking up the middle of the room with the black love seat placed off to its side. A mismatched pair of IKEA style bookshelves, one white and one brown; both pushed against the wall. It all screams chaos. A mixture of old-school designs, country themed colors and lines of the minimalism trend. In one word, sloppy. Oddly so, she finds that she likes it that way. It's authentic, down to earth, and so very different from the surroundings she is used to. 

Her mother would have been appalled, she notes, amused. She, on the other hand, doesn't mind that at all.

"Have a seat" he gestures to the couch while he rounds his desk in search of his notepad, large and thick and in an awful shade of yellow.

He's sitting in front of her moments later, a pen and the pad positioned comfortably in his lap.

"So…" he coaxes softly and looks up at her expectantly "care to share why you've changed your mind?" he inquires and her lips purse into a thin line. It's a reasonable question considering the fact that her last words the other day were _this is a mistake._ Or more accurately, _this is a stupid mistake_. 

"I-" she quiets for a moment, phrasing the sentence in her head first. "I'm sorry" she starts "for leaving so abruptly" her eyes cast down for a short moment.

"That's alright," Dr. Hopper says with a warm smile "No harm was done."

She nods curtly at that, fidgets a little, and then continues.

"Something has happened," she starts, her description vague. "To me" she adds "and I thought I could" she moves her hand in a swirling motion as she searches for the right word "overcome this, _thing_ , on my own."

She swallows and the room is quiet again.

"I can't" she admits in defeat and looks up at Dr. Hopper, silently asking him to take the lead. He does.

"Okay" he nods and scribbles down something on his pad. "Let's start over, shall we?"

"My name is Archibald Hopper, I'm a clinical social worker/psychologist with Ph.D. in sexual abuse. I started in Hunter college school of social work and then proceeded to Princeton University in New Jersey for my Master's and Doctorate’s, focusing on sexual abuse victims and their coping mechanisms. I'm a New Yorker at heart" he smiles "I'm 43 years old and happily married." He concludes with a nod. "Anything else you'd like to know?" he asks and she shakes her head; she already knows everything that there is to know about him. Still, it's nice that he had said those things to her. Now, every time she says something regarding him she won't have to think twice about where she got the information from or if it's even usable. 

"Why won't you tell me something about yourself?" he pushes gently "Are you a New Yorker?"

That is an easy question, easy enough to get Regina talking.

"No," she tilts her head and for the first time since they started talking a small smile graces her face "though I would like to think that I am. I'm from Chicago, born and raised. Moved here at the age of eighteen for an honors program at Columbia University. Five and half years later I left with a Bachelor's in Economy and Accounting and a Master's in Law."

She watches Dr. Hopper's eyebrows shoot higher with each sentence. 

"Needless to say that my combined titles were extremely sought-after as well as quite rare."

"Is that so?" he frowns.

"Mhm" she confirms with confidence.

"Why?"

"You see," she sits a little straighter in her seat "There are as many lawyers as there are fish in the sea." She determines and he nods in agreement. "There are niches in the law; some do criminal law, some family law, some civil law. Law is required in almost any major field, especially in the financial world.”

She glances at him, making sure that he's still following, and then proceeds.

"Imagine a large transaction: a company buying another company, a large business splitting themselves to enlarge profits. Those are things that happen regularly and require a representative of the law, unless you want to get tangled up in bureaucracy and governmental demands."

He grimaces sympathetically at the mental image she had just created.

"In those transactions, a financial specialist is required just as much as a Lawyer is; to run the numbers and make sure that everything is working on the financial side of the deal, to check for profitability, chances of bankruptcy, loans and so on…" she gestures et cetera with her hand.

"Now, those two specialists have to work in unison in order to make the deal happen, right?"

"Right"

"And they're both rather inept in the other's area of specialty" she notes.

"Correct" he agrees.

"So, naturally, there can be misunderstandings that interfere with the transaction and even if not, the process would be clumsy, dependent and rather slow."

"Mmm" he places his forefinger on his mouth as he weighs her words.

"Now, imagine a crazy scenario in which the two professionals could be combined." She suggests and he leans forward, intrigued.

"It would be much more effective and also less expensive" he jumps in and she smirks.

"Exactly," she nods approvingly "I am that person. With my knowledge of the financial world and the business law, I create a scenario where I'm one person who can answer both of those demands." She states and waits for the dots to connect in his head.

"Oh!" his eyes go round when he realizes her worth. He looks extremely impressed. "Wow"

"Indeed" she confirms "So, as I was saying, I got snatched by one of the largest Law firms in Chicago 'Goldman, Blanchard and Assoc.' and I moved back to Chicago."

"I see" He says and scribbles it down, back to professional talk. "And when did you move back here?"

The blessed ease she was in quickly dissipates, leaving her uncomfortable.

"Almost a month ago" she says her tone dry, devoid of emotion, and her face a mask she has learned to master years ago, or as she likes to call it 'Cora's face'.

"Really? And why did you move back here?" he asks casually, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling inside her. 

"The-" she tries to swallow past the lump forming in her throat. She fails. "The _thing_ " she says quietly and he looks up from his pad, his eyes knowing.

"I see" he continues to scribble things down, but it's half-heartedly since his gaze never wavers from her face, studying her, and suddenly she wishes he would write religiously again, even if it makes her uncomfortable. 

"So from what I'm understanding, the _thing_ " he uses her terminology, and for that she's grateful, since she's not sure she can handle the word assault or rape being said out loud regarding her situation. "happened at least around a month ago?" he half states, half asks.

"More than that" is all she's currently willing to provide and he grasps it with two hands.

"Okay and yet somehow you waited until now, well, up until a week ago" he corrects himself "to seek professional help. Am I correct?"

"You are"

"So what changed?" he inquires, leaning back at the charged question, giving Regina all the time in the world. 

"Nothing" she states bitterly "Nothing changed"

"It doesn't get better" he states knowingly, as if he has access to her thoughts "like you expected it to" he supplies and it's so accurate that she can't help but agree.

"Exactly"

"Mhm" he makes a non-committal noise and writes a rather long sentence before placing it back on his lap and looking at her with his full attention.

"Look," he starts "I can't promise you things will magically get better. It takes time and a lot of effort and even when you do open up and treat it, it never goes away completely. I wouldn't want to assume the severity of what happened to you but it doesn't matter since I don't take those things lightly either way. The good news is that you're here, and as cliché as it sounds, it's still one huge step in the right direction." He nods encouragingly and she tries to put on a smile. It ends up as more of a grimace.

"The frequency of the sessions is up to you. I'd recommend two or three a week as a start and later on we'll move to one a week. Correct me if I wrong, but from my experience, those traumas can cause severe insomnia, panic attacks, and outbursts. Those are the things I start with, dealing with those episodes, learning better coping mechanisms. Once we see progress and build a better trust system, we dive into the root of the psychological triggers and eventually the trauma itself."

He pushes up his perched glasses and takes a deep breath.

"Some therapists like to tackle the problem head on. From my experience I found that some people react better to the onion method; we start with 'superficial' problems and go deeper each time, peeling the layers one by one." 

When he finishes the room is silent. Her brain is trying to wrap itself around his words, attaching meaning to them.

"How does that sound to you?" he asks eventually when she says nothing in return.

"Adequate" she says and he smiles a little at her choice of words.

"Good" he concludes, clasping his hands almost excitedly. "Unfortunately, our time is up" he says apologetically while gesturing to the clock "We'll continue this next time. Please approach Martha and set up another appointment." He gets up and moves to his desk. He fishes a card out of the card stand and hands it to her.

"Here's my number, please use it if you feel like you need to."

She nods and takes it, placing it carefully in her purse. 

"And one last thing" he points out and jumps to retrieve a document from one of the desk drawers.

"This is a list of symptoms caused by mental distress. Not necessarily related to sexual assault but it sometimes helps the patient relate certain behavioral patterns to the recent trauma they have experienced. Read this" he hands it to her "and draw an asterisk near every pattern you've experienced since the incident. That way we can treat every single one of those individually and try eliminate them."

She takes it from him and follows him to the door.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Mills" he says kindly while holding the doorknob.

"Regina" she corrects.

"Regina" he repeats and opens the door "Have a good day"

"You too" she steps out and immediately approaches the counter to set another appointment.

  


***

  


The walk home is surprisingly calm. She feels drained, but in a good way; like when you gather arguments in your head and then you finally get to say them all, leaving a blessed vacuum. Only this time it's not her head, it's her chest that feels surprisingly light. 

In the spur of the moment, she decides on making actual food that night. The vegetables from the other day are still rather fresh as she cuts them into thin strips and places them delicately in a ceramic container. She drizzles olive oil, squeezes some lemon and scatters extra spices and herbs on top.

She shoves the container in the oven and for the next hour allows her nose, and generally her apartment, to be filled with the delicious smell of homemade Ratatouille. When she takes it out of the oven, her nostrils flare with delight at the amazing smell.

She always had a flair for cooking, one that she seems to have abandoned lately. Even before the incident, work had taken its toll on her. The late working hours and lack of time to go grocery shopping resulted in her ditching one of her main loves and opting on takeout food ordered to the office instead.

She vows to get back to it, now that she has free time, and lots of it. 

She places the scorching container on the kitchen island, shaking her head in disappointment when she realizes that there isn't a single bottle of wine in the apartment to go with her meal. After making a mental note to buy some when she has the chance, she grabs a generous portion and places it on a plate.

It's too quiet for her to simply eat, and after two bites she gives up on the dining table and takes the plate with her to the couch. She turns on the TV and watches some meaningless reality show while nibbling her food.

  


***

  


She wakes up that night, sweating and shaking, like any other night. Performing the same routine; peeling off the invisible, violating hands while scratching herself in the process, throwing herself off the bed and onto the floor, crawling to the corner with the blanket and turning the lights on.

She ends up in the living room, coffee warming up on the stove. It's 03:35 AM, an improvement from the previous night, but not remotely close to ideal. 

While she waits for the coffee she moves to her bag and retrieves the list Dr. Hopper has given her. 

She stares at it for a long time before placing it back in the bag. Marking those lines is equivalent in her eyes to marking all of her problems. Problems that she's still refusing to acknowledge. 

When the coffee is done she takes it and positions herself in front of the TV.

It takes a good few of hours, but eventually, she can't ignore it anymore. It's around noon when she re-approaches the bag and fishes out the single white page. Still unbelievably tired due to the lack of sleep her body can't seem to overcome or get used to, she makes another cup of coffee and places it on the island, next to the white paper.

She takes a deep breath, grabs a nearby pen, and starts circling.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this chapter is slightly shorter than the previous one. I decided that the line of the story and the meaning of each chapter as a phase is more crucial than hitting the exact amount of words each and every time. So please don't expect perfectly matching lengths.
> 
> One more thing: the psychological methods and circling behavioral patterns and taking care of them are my creation (I mean I didn't invent those, obviously, but I don't know if they actually exist and are practiced during therapy). I'm not a psychologist (I'm not even close) but I do my best to stay accurate and logical with the process. If I stray unrealistically and you know better, you're more than welcomed to point out the mistakes or advise me otherwise – I'd be grateful for the help.


	3. Consider Yourself Warned

**Chapter 3-**

**Consider Yourself Warned**

  


She glances down and rolls her eyes at the text.

_Kathryn- Why don't you reply to any of my texts? Call me._

Seconds after shoving it back into her bag, her phone buzzes again. 

_Kathryn- I mean it. Answer me or I'll take matters into my own hands. Consider yourself warned._

She huffs, more out of amusement than annoyance. Kathryn always had fire burning under her butt, always set on getting things done and done in her way, and would never take 'no' for an answer.

That's how they became friends, really. Regina was the classic Ivy League student: hard working, smart, avoidant of anything remotely resembling a social life. That is unless it was beneficial to her application form, of course. She long gave up on trying to be a normal teenager, hanging out with friends and attending parties. It wasn't in her cards, she supposed, and despite remembering quite clearly wanting to, she never actively tried to change it.

Now imagine her surprise, years later, when a blonde girl looking exactly like those prom queens approached her. It was orientation week in Columbia, her first week on campus, when Kathryn introduced herself. After a quick conversation, which Regina will forever address to as a one sided interrogation rather than a talk, Kathryn discovered their mutual goal, Law school. 

Despite Regina majoring in Economics and Kathryn in Social Studies the blonde seemed keen on befriending the brunette. Eventually, after endless persistent attempts, she wore Regina down. She agreed to study together, a rather innocent concept that ended with Kathryn dragging Regina to her first visit at the campus bar. Needless to say that mixing an inexperienced Regina with endless horny frat guys wasn't the best of choices.

Somehow, Kathryn stuck around, and not just for Regina's skills in math. Regina isn’t one to talk much, or open up to people, and they give up on her pretty quickly. Which is understandable, no hard feelings there. But Kathryn stayed. Stayed through four years of undergrad, three more of grad and was eventually the one to poach Regina to 'Goldman, Blanchard and assoc.' once she finished her Ph.D. 

Her phone buzzes again, this time accompanied by the impersonal ringtone preset upon purchase, which Regina didn't bother to change.

She frowns. Kathryn never calls, she knows better. 

Intrigued, she fishes for it while glancing at the door to Dr. Hopper's office, making sure he hasn't finished his previous appointment just yet. When she finally retrieves the phone, she freezes at the caller ID, and finds herself torn between simply hanging up or crushing her device against the near wall.

Instead she just presses the side button to mute the sound and leaves it to ring. It rings for what seems like forever, each buzz cutting through her chest. She closes her eyes and lets out a breath, slowly, in an attempt to calm herself down. 

Finally, it stops, and she slumps against the sofa, relived and oddly proud at her reaction. Buying a new phone simply because she got angry at a call would be a bitch, an unnecessary time consuming, human-interaction requiring bitch.

She's still staring down at it when the door opens and in a blink Dr. Hopper rushes her in.

"Miss Mills" he says kindly as he takes his seat.

"Regina, please" she corrects. Miss Mills sounds too much like she's back at work. She doesn't like that connotation.

"Regina" he corrects with a nod and she settles on the couch.

He fumbles with his large yellow notepad and his pen while she waits patiently for him to scribble down what ought to be her name at the top of the page before placing the pen down and glancing back up at her.

"I have a question" he says out of the blue "something I've been thinking about since our last meeting."

Her eyebrows rise "And what that may be?"

"You see, you mentioned your work place at Chicago, are you still working for them?"

She grimaces.

"It's a little complicated." She says and he waits for her to elaborate "Technically, I do. I perform what lawyers like to call 'the first year's work' which usually concludes reading depositions, marking important paragraphs and reading testimonies whether it's our witnesses or the opposite's. I basically do anything that can be done from afar; I go over the papers they assign me and do all the prep work that doesn't require my actual presence at the office."

"I see" he says "quite generous of them" he states and she feels her body tensing.

"I guess you could say that" she says vaguely and he examines her for a moment, his eyes shifting from kind and accepting to piercing, inquiring. He seems to find what he’s looking for, and leans back into his chair.

"Mmm" he makes a non-committal sound "eventually we're going to have to talk about it, but let's drop it for now." 

She lets out a breath, nodding.

"How have you been since our last meeting?" he asks and she grabs onto that line for dear life.

  


***

  


"So I assume you've brought the list I gave you?" it's somewhere between a statement and an inquiry.

"I did" she retrieves it from her bag and hands it over. 

His eyes scan the written words. She looks for a sign of emotion, anything, but he stays stoic, unbothered almost, as he reads what could only be described as her list of flaws.

"Well" he says and places the sheet on the table "I already explained why I wanted you to fill that page. What I didn't explain is why it's is so important. Some people would argue that once you handle the problem, the base, those 'side effects'" he signs quotation marks with his hands "would naturally go away as well. This perception could be true in some cases and therefore is only partially beneficial. You see, I look at your current mental state as a circle. The trauma you went through has been the trigger and also the cause for some if not all of those 'side effects', or more accurately, behavioral patterns. I believe that those patterns help to create an unending circle; your trauma feeds the patterns and in return the patterns influence your mental state and make it harder for you to overcome the trauma. Does that makes sense?"

He pauses and she nods, it’s fairly easy to understand that perception.

"That is why taking care of those problems can improve your mental state immensely and indirectly affect the way you deal with the trauma itself."

He stops to take a sip of water from his glass and then continues.

"I see that you've circled here that you experience tiredness/insomnia/trouble sleeping. Elaborate a little?"

She clears her throat, fidgeting in her seat.

"I- yes." She swallows "I've been having difficulties sleeping."

"Mmm" he hums, while writing in his pad "Is the problem in falling asleep or is it waking up?"

"Falling asleep can take some time but it's not the problem. The problem is that I can't seem to sleep more than three hours, four tops, before I'm awakened by" she stops and searches for a word that isn't nightmares "Disturbing dreams"

Dr. Hopper nods through her explanation, that pen moving furiously over the page as he writes it all down.

"And those dreams," he uses her term, which, again, she's grateful for "are they connected to the incident?" he asks, lifting his gaze to meet hers when he asks that question.

She keeps quiet, internally forcing the words out. 

"It is." She sighs "It is not related, it's exactly what happened. Maybe slightly irrational and not one hundred percent realistic at all times, but it is pretty accurate." She pushes out and it's relieving, knowing that someone else is aware of that now. It's comforting to know that she is not utterly and completely alone, even if she actually is.

"Is it the same dream every night?" 

"Generally, yes. The words can change a little, the background too but it's mostly the same."

"I see," he purses his lips and pushes his perched glasses, something she has come to realize that he does when he's uncomfortable or about to ask a hard questions.

"And the dream wakes you up?" she nods "When do you wake up? In the middle of the," he stops "Incident, or once it ends?"

She sighs. Dreaming this every night is mentally consuming enough, there is no need to keep talking about it. But she answers, nonetheless.

"When it ends. The incident I mean." 

"Alright. You see, some behavioral patterns are overcome by certain techniques or new coping mechanisms. Sleep is a rather mysterious thing. For some, time does the trick and the dreams' frequency lessens until it disappears, some get over it by talking about it and some by depending and leaning on loved ones for support. Support from family and friends. Is that something that can happen in your case?" he asks gently and she thinks long and hard before shaking her head. His head tilts a little, almost as if in disappointment. That is, of course, if he actually cared.

"Right now, the trauma is rather fresh. So to try and eliminate the dreams would be a little over ambitious. What is important is to try and improve the sleep you do have and try to lengthen it; since lack of sleep has to do with the distress you’re probably experiencing."

He turns the page over and writes what looks to be a list.

"This is for you to take" he says and she leans slightly forward, intrigued "things you can change or put in your daily routine to try and reach a better sleep routine. First, coffee. I'm assuming sleeping three hours can be tiring and results in you consuming large amounts of caffeine to wake yourself up. Try to eliminate as much as possible."

She frowns at the prospect of abandoning coffee, her only friend at the moment.

"And if you can't get rid of it entirely, at least try to avoid drinking it after 6 pm and when you get up at night. Why is that? The caffeine awakens your system. Drinking it at night damages the quality of the sleep and can wake you after mere hours of rest. Drinking it once you get up at three in the morning might help in that exact moment, but it prevents any potential sleep to follow. Think about waking up from regular nightmares, even as a kid, usually you’d go back to sleep. Here, you eliminate to possibility for that to happen."

It's upsetting and depressing but it does make sense so she nods, accepting the verdict, and waits for him to continue.

"Once you get up from a bad dream your body is still shaken up and can be shaken up for a lot of hours following that, which can prevent you from going back to sleep. Try to nap around lunch time. Half an hour, hour tops, might help you get some of the vitality you lack and the short period of the nap might prevent you from dreaming whatsoever."

"I'll give it a try" is the best she can promise, though the argument sounds quite compelling. Sleep without dreams? She'll take that any day.

"Stimulate your brain and your body. Sounds silly, I know, but mental and physical exhaustion can help you fall asleep at night. It can also make you sleep longer, so give it a shot; do crosswords, read a good book and go out for a run." He smiles encouragingly and she smiles back despite knowing that there's no way she'd be spending more time than absolutely necessary outdoors.

"Keep a diary of your sleeping habits for me to review over time. Maybe we'll find certain foods or actions that are beneficial for your sleep. Sleep deprivation can cause many side effects such as drastic mood changes, loss of appetite, depression, increased anxiety, and paranoia. All those things just make life tougher, let's try to avoid those shall we?"

"Please" she says, because, honestly, getting rid of those burdens does sound great.

She takes the list with her when she leaves the office, intending on hanging it up on the refrigerator as a constant reminder.

  


***

  


She hasn't made another cooked meal since the other day. Mainly because she had plenty of leftovers. Also, because she lacked the energy. Therapy seems to both exhaust her and boost her at the same time, and she is already considering a cooked dinner on her way home.

She climbs up the stairs, looking for her keys.

"There you are"

Caught off guard Regina drops the keys she finally managed to find and looks up with a hand clutching to her chest.

"Jesus!" she exclaims, bending down to pick up the keys.

"Good to see you too" Kathryn greets sarcastically.

"What are you doing here?" she demands, as her arms fold tightly against her chest.

"I'm checking if you're still alive." She bites "Why didn’t you respond to any of my texts?" she inquires, using her 'you know you did something wrong' voice. Regina hates that tone, it's so preposterous.

"How do you know where I live?" Regina ignores her question completely and Kathryn sends her the _really?_ look. Oh, right. Fred.

She turns to the door, inserting the key in the lock.

"Are you going to let me in?" Kathryn asks in a way that makes Regina not want know what will happen if the answer to that question will be a negative one. 

They have a short stare-off but eventually she crumples.

"Fine" she huffs "follow me"

They enter the apartment and Kathryn's gaze is all over, examining, judging.

"Coffee?" she winces when she remembers what she has been told less than an hour ago. "Tea?" she adds quickly.

"I'm good" Kathryn replies, distracted, as she wanders the apartment with a gall only she can possess.

Regina turns her back to her, searching in her cabinet for a caffeine-free teabag. Eventually she finds some green tea, deeming it acceptable, she boils some water and places the bag in a mug.

"Why are you here?" she tries again when Kathryn emerges from her bedroom.

"I already told you-"

"No," she emphasizes "I mean here, in New York"

"Oh" Kathryn says while taking a sit on one of the island's stools "The Gomez case" she provides almost as if they're at work and it's somehow comforting, to revert to simpler times. "They want to expand, I'm here for a new deal. You know, to supervise."

She nods and pours the now boiled water in the mug. She hugs it tightly, letting the warmth expand from her hands to her entire body.

"Since I was here I decided to visit my best friend, you know, see why she has decided to just abandon me without any explanation." The airy, casual voice makes place for her serious tone. Her eyes are piercing and Regina fights the urge to wince under her gaze.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" she asks and it's more like a demand rather than a request.

"Not really, no" she straightens her spine and lifts her chin in defiance. She may not feel confident at the moment but she can definitely fake it.

They stare at each other and the silence is deafening. 

Eventually Kathryn slumps. "What happened?" she sighs, defeated.

"I-" she tries but then realizes that she doesn't know what to say. "Something happened" is what she can so lamely come up with.

"No shit" Kathryn mumbles and she snorts.

"Yeah"

"And you don't want to tell me" she states and Regina chews her bottom lip.

"It's more of an _I_ _can't_ rather than _I don’t_ _want_ _to_ "

Kathryn looks deep in thought "Would you?" she locks eyes with Regina "Tell me someday, I mean?"

Regina shakes her head and lets out a chuckle that sounds more like a sob "I don't know"

"When are you coming back?"

"I don't know" she says again because the only thing she knows right now is that nothing is certain and that she has no paved road to follow, at least not at the moment.

"Do you want me to stay for a while?" she asks and Regina is so tempted to say yes. Yes to the prospect of not being alone just for one night. Yes to having someone around, to not be so damn _lonely_ all the time.

But she can't let Kathryn see her like that. How would she explain waking up screaming in the middle of the night? She knows there's a very good chance Kathryn is at least half aware of her situation since there's only a certain amount of resistance Fred can provide against his fiery, bull-headed wife. Kathryn is persistent and she has no doubt that Fred broke under the pressure. She doesn't blame him, not at all, Kathryn is, at the end of the day, the person who knows most about her.

This, however, is not something Regina wants anybody who knows her to know about. She doesn't know if it's shame, fear, disgrace. All she knows is that the thought of people knowing about that makes her nauseous. Experiencing it is bad enough, she doesn't need to live it a thousand times over.

It has always been her choice, to run away from everyone while facing a problem. Unfortunate, of course, but irreversible by now. And even at this moment, when she needs support more than anything, when she actually craves the company out of complete fear of staying alone, she still can't manage to push that certain wall down. She hates herself in that moment but it doesn't change the fact that eventually she grimaces and respectfully declines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Emma hasn't made an appearance just yet but don’t worry, she will soon… (And it will definitely be worth the wait). Plus, I know it’s pretty heavy and dark looking at the moment, but it will get better :)


	4. It's Never Too Warm For Turtlenecks

**Chapter 4-**

**It’s Never Too Warm For Turtlenecks**

  


Kathryn doesn't put up a fight. Not this time.

She leaves New York the following day, desperately needed back at the firm. Kathryn promises to be back, and Regina, in turn, promises a coffee date. That seems to satisfy the blonde.

She calls just before boarding time, and in an unprecedented move, Regina accepts the call.

"Please don't go all stranger on me again." Kathryn pleads "I understand your need of privacy, always have, but please don't push me away for caring. I promise I won't ask too many questions, or pry, but I just want to know that you're fine. I sit around in the dark and worry about you like the good Polish lady that I am." She jokes and Regina chuckles, the sound almost foreign to her own ears.

"That you are" she says fondly while picking non-existent dirt off her pants.

"I miss my best friend! I want to tell you things and I can't."

"I said fine, don't you know when to stop?" she bites but it holds no real malice. It’s nice to be back, even if partially and at times awkwardly so, to their little banters.

"Of course not, I'm a lawyer" she retorts cheekily and this really gets Regina laughing. It's a sound she hasn't made in a while and it feels like a blessed hot shower on a cold day: warm and comforting, and utterly needed.

She hears the airport announcements in the background and Kathryn goes quiet.

"That's me" she says once the electronic voice that has invaded their call is gone "I’ve got to go"

"Okay"

"Talk to you later" she says hastily and hangs up.

Regina shakes her head, a small smile gracing her face. Overall, despite the unexpected visit’s initial effect, this has been a good thing, she realizes. It looks like cutting herself from people she cares about added some extra weight to the already heavy cargo on her chest. 

It's almost evening, and despite her not having any desire to make dinner whatsoever, she decides she'll make one anyway.

Dr. Hopper said it is a good thing, one she should follow through with, even on their off-days. So she makes a mental detour around her reluctance and scans the pantry for optional dishes. After finding all the ingredients needed for Spaghetti Bolognese she rolls up her sleeves and gets to work.

Somewhere along the way it ceases being a burden and starts being enjoyable.

  


***

  


She keeps going to Dr. Hopper, whom she now calls Archie, twice a week.

The progress is slow but at least it's existent.

She still sleeps around three hours a night, but it doesn't take that long to actually fall asleep anymore. She still gets up, petrified, and crawls to the corner of the room with a shaking body, but the time it takes for her to convince herself that it's just a dream and pull herself out of her head gets shorter by the day. She also, and thank god for that, manages to nap for an hour or so on some afternoons. This nap is blissfully dream-free and there's no way of describing, nor removing, the joyous expression that stays intact for the rest of the day on those occasions.

She and Archie conclude that a lot of free time isn't necessarily good for her. So in a notion of filling her schedule a little, she starts volunteering at the library. She doesn't do much since there isn’t much to do in the first place, but she helps Mrs. Heathers organize the book sections the other volunteers don't reach. It's mostly the rare-books section and her favorite aisle, overpopulated and utterly disorganized.

It usually takes about an hour or so to arrange them in an order she deems suitable, and then she just fishes out new books for herself to read. She arrives late in the morning and leaves around lunch, forever loyal to her rule not to be outside when it's dark or during the infamous rush hours. It seems like something she can't shake off, the fear from all that is unknown. Everyone is a threat, everything is scary. 

She still wears her turtlenecks, acquiring more as the time goes by instead of overcoming that fixation.

It's three or four weeks into therapy when the subject eventually comes up.

"May I ask why are you so fond of turtlenecks?" Archie asks while crossing his legs in what can only be described as a feminine manner. "Is it a fashion choice? Do you just love them?"

He looks at her expectantly while she ponders her answer. They're long past the initial awkwardness but Regina is still, and forever will be, a private person. Hence, no matter how much they talk about her, every question feels like an invasion. Not just his, anyone's, but she isn't really talking to anyone else at the moment. At least not behind pleasantries and small talk, and especially not about her weak spots.

"I wouldn't say that" is what she goes with eventually, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Archie, aware by now of her body language and usual distress signs, glances down to her twitching hands, before looking up at her, frowning.

"Is this related to…" he shifts a little in his chair, finding a more comfortable position "the incident?" he asks gently, more than willing to wait patiently for her to answer.

The window to her right is open, quite a rare case since it's usually closed. She stares at the building in front of her, at the sunlight hitting the glass windows. She sighs.

"I guess so"

The room is quite, the silence stretching, weighing on Regina. 

She never understood comfortable silences. Probably since it's directly related to intimacy, something she runs from like it's fire. Silence makes her stressed, uncomfortable, fidgeting until someone fills the void with words, actions, anything. If no one speaks up, she would, in a desperate need to get rid of the uneasy feeling it gives her. People were not meant to be quiet near each other, she's sure of it. She found avoiding people all along is the best way to live life; you either have company that talks or you don't have one at all. Silence when you're by yourself is blessed, but not when there are other people around, it's just unnatural. 

Loyal to her custom, she gives in and fills the void.

"It's a layer of protection" she grits out, looking down at the twisting hands in her lap.

"What do you need protection from?" he inquires and she almost winces at the way this question hits close to everything she won't share.

"People" she rasps out, immediately hating herself for the evident vulnerability in her voice.

"Do you feel like you need protection from people?" he asks and there's a smidgen of incredulity in his tone, which is utterly ridiculous considering his profession and field of expertise. On the other hand, she assumes, this type of blind optimism is the one keeping him from giving up altogether upon hearing the horrid actions humans are capable of.

"Of course I do" she spits out, enraged despite her attempts to remain calm "look what they've done" she blames and her chest tightens at the thought of approaching this dangerous territory. But she's in already and she can't stop, not once she’s started.

"One man does not define an entire population" Archie counters and she bristles.

"If one man can do it, they all can." She insists, seeing red "this whole society is based upon sexuality and power. Men think they're entitled to everything they desire and they use whatever measure they deem right to get it. This whole society is built upon sexual harassment, sexual aggression, sexual compulsion." She spits out and her eyes water with rage and distress all mixed together. 

"Every man that walks in the street is a potential offender, a potential…" she trails off as the tears that build up finally fall, staining her cheeks.

"Of course I'm scared, I'm scared of every single one of them. But there's nothing I can do to change that, to change the way they think, to change the way they act. I can only change myself." The tears stream down her face in a continuous pace. She wipes them off only to wipe again seconds later when a new batch arrives.

She's done talking, immediately regretting everything that has left her mouth; so raw, so real, so uncalculated, so unlike her. But then she realizes it _is_ her, it's what she's become; this pathetic excuse of a human being, throwing away everything she worked so hard to reach, to get, to deserve. But at the same breath she knows she can't be that person anymore, she can't be _that_ Regina Mills, the force to be reckoned with. Now she's just scraps, leftovers of the person she used to be. Now, now she's a broken version of herself, one that gets up every night silently screaming for help but is too damn proud to ask for it. One that can't look in the mirror anymore, that can't help but hate herself, hate everything she loved about herself and took pride in, hate it because she keeps wondering whether it was the cause for him to… whether her behavior was the cause for him to…

She knows in her head that she is wrong and unfair towards herself, she knows that no matter what she wore that day and how pretty and feminine and inviting she looked, he had no right to do what he did. She can never know for sure if she might have signaled something that was misinterpreted on his side, that made him think that she wanted it, that they were on the same page. That doubt, that crippling thought, eats her alive; that maybe, just maybe, it's partially her fault. And that thought kills her. Kills her because admitting it puts the blame, the weight, on her. And she refuses to do so, won't do so. Because if she's the fault for that what is she left with, if she doesn't have something to rage on, someone to blame?

When she finally looks up Archie is examining her, his pad left untouched as his eyes scan her face, searching. For what? She has no idea, she has long stopped trying to understand his thought processes. Then, it all seems to connect in his head. He tilts it a little before saying quietly, understandingly.

"You hide" he concludes and she stiffens "You want to hide yourself from everyone, so you cover yourself up. You try to de-sexualize yourself, don’t you?" he asks incredulously, eyebrows up, almost reaching his hairline.

She tries to swallows past the lump in her throat unsuccessfully.

"There are days I wish I were ugly" she admits in shame, ignoring his question "I wonder if it could have been avoided if I looked different, dressed different, acted different." She says defeated, her head hanging low as she admits one of her biggest secrets, one of her biggest doubts, one of her biggest, still bleeding and far from healing, wounds.

She has stopped crying by now, merely sniffing every couple of moments, much to her mother's dismay. She steals a glance at him. He is back in shrink mode, writing down everything, eyes drifting over the room aimlessly as he thinks and analyzes every little piece of her soul. She hates that part, despite the helpful tips and guidance that usually follow. It still makes her feel invalid, inhuman, nothing more than a test subject.

"I think" he starts, eyes still unfocused as he formulates the 'verdict' in his head "It is a legitimate fear, a legitimate notion, to feel unsafe. It's understandable and perfectly normal considering your past experiences. Yet," he motions with his hand "it is not to be expected, for you to live your life fearing everything and everyone. It is to be treated as a temporary shortcoming, invalidation, something to be worked on, worked past, worked around." His face determined as he continues, hands motioning animatedly.

"We need to find a tool for you to use to work yourself around that fear." He says with a nod, both confirming and encouraging himself. 

He then falls into silence, hand on his chin, eyes unfocused again as he searches in his educated head for an answer. Regina, on her side, watches passively, almost skeptically, since she can't imagine a scenario in which she will overcome the fixation that by now became an inseparable part of her life.

Eventually he slumps in defeat. Disappointed yet determined, he promises to think about it for their next meeting. She nods, though deep inside she doesn't expect any life changing solutions. Some things can be walked around, sure. This one, that is built on restoring her trust in mankind, probably not.

  


***

  


"Mrs. Heathers?" she calls when she pushes the door open with her elbow, her hands occupied, holding two steaming cups of coffee. 

It's a chilly morning, as late October days usually are. Regina is in a particularly good mood today after seeing not one but two turtleneck-clad women on her way here. Silly of course, to feel cheered up by such an awfully random thing but it means something to her. The symbol of being a part of the crowd, finally not the only one to wear turtlenecks, it's incredibly comforting in a bizarre kind of way. Enough to lighten up her mood.

"For the hundredth time Regina," Heathers calls from behind a bookshelf "It's Katelyn" she appears with a stack of tattered looking books and places them on her table with a thud.

"Would you rather I called you Miss Mills?" she teases and Regina smiles before shaking her head.

"Of course not" she says quickly.

"So cut it out" she warns with a point of a finger but her face is warm and inviting in a grandma kind of way. Regina nods her acceptance, handing out a cup.

"Coffee?" she offers and Mrs. Heathers, Katelyn, takes it willingly. She clings to the warm cup, inhaling the intoxicating smell of caffeine and immediately takes a sip.

"No drinking nor eating in the library ma'am" Regina notifies in a low authoritative tone that breaks into a small chuckle when Katelyn sends her a warning look.

"Have a sit" she says while pulling a rolling chair from the back room. Regina grabs it willingly and lowers herself onto it. It's her manners and upbringing that prevent her from falling down, her posture saving her at the last minute from tumbling over with the wheel-missing chair (while holding a scorching cup of coffee in hand). But somehow she manages to stand up quickly, right before the old purple chair collides with ground. She looks at it and then lifts her gaze to meet Katelyn’s with half-hearted annoyance.

"Sorry" Katelyn shrugs in response and Regina shakes her head in disbelief. "Go grab one from the reading section" she gestures with her head. Regina rolls her eyes but says nothing as she walks over to the reading area. It's a rather spacious area if you consider the library's location and size. It contains a large table, composed by four square army-green tables joined together. The table is surrounded by at least a dozen chairs, some stacked at the corner of the makeshift cube this section created. The short, hip-height, bookshelves around the table contain mainly school related books and encyclopedias, that in an attempt to encourage learning and regular academic visits to the library. It unintentionally creates a feeling of a closed room in an open space, and usually serves a book club meeting twice a week according to Katelyn.

She grabs one of the chairs and takes it with her back to Katelyn's desk. She sits down with a huff, almost smirking at Katelyn's judging expression.

"You only get to sigh like that when you’re old" she criticizes and despite having endless comebacks to that statement, Regina drops it.

They focus on drinking the coffee for a little while until Regina is overcome by the urge to fill the silence again.

"So…" she drawls, grabbing Katelyn's attention "what are these for?" she motions with her free hand to the stack of books Katelyn carried earlier, when she arrived.

"Oh, those?" Katelyn asks and continues to answer without waiting for a response "someone donated those. I still need to check if they're even usable." She shrugs while examining the books from afar "Some definitely look like they would fall apart the minute someone leafs through them."

"Mhm" Regina agrees while examining them herself. She almost tells Katelyn about the enormous library she had, still has, in her abandoned apartment in Chicago. A library filled with classics, controversial statement books, memoirs of famous economists and history books. A beautiful oak library with a matching sofa and a love seat, stationed next to her working desk and booze cabinet; her favorite room in her house. Not a home anymore, she thinks bitterly, even in her own head. 

But she doesn't mention all of those things in fear of provoking a discussion on why she left Chicago, and everything surrounding that topic. Instead, she tells Katelyn about her love for books as a child. What used to be her bonding time with her dad, that later on became her way of honoring him when he passed away. 

Katelyn, in return, tells her about a different time, a different era where all people cared about was peace and love and fighting the war. Regina's laugh bounces of the walls, combined with Katelyn's as she shares what could only be described as the legendary tales of the flower power generation. 


	5. Raging Storms

**Chapter 5-**

**Raging Storms**

  


She is in the midst of writing the last paragraph of a legal bankruptcy report.

The email had arrived two days prior, efficiently stating the facts, goals and deadlines for assessing and submitting that notion to the financial committee. Despite hating economical invalidation reports with all her heart, she couldn't ignore the slight flutter in her chest at the presence of new work.

There's no shortage of work to be done in a law firm and indeed most of it is paperwork. Endless billable hours of reading and re-reading statements, notions, depositions, court instructions and that is just pre-trial. There are always last minute reports, specialist articles both against and for their side to review. Hours upon hours wasted for the sake of finding that one statement, one paragraph to prove their case right. 

You'd expect Regina to be drowning in work since it's not a secret that lawyers hate doing paperwork. Yet some things can't be done from afar and that results in _some_ work but not as much as she wished for, not nearly enough to fill her day. And the dead hours that follow make her even more enthusiastic and efficient once she receives assignments. Well, that until she runs out of things to do.

She sighs, running over the final paragraph for some last minute corrections; partially happy to be done with the work but also disappointed at the lack of more work to follow and the boredom that waits down the line. It's only three in the afternoon and her schedule for the day is already empty. She makes a mental note to ask for additional workload when the phone rings, the ringtone bouncing off the walls of the quiet apartment.

She gets up and moves to the kitchen where the phone is being charged and picks it up. When she spots the caller ID she presses accept and puts it on speaker.

"Hey" she greets.

"Hey!" Kathryn calls, obviously still excited that Regina actually accepts her calls now. "How are you?"

"I'm good" Regina answers quickly. Giving up on standing still, she roams through the pantry. Maybe she will go grocery shopping. "Just finished the financial report on that construction company" she provides as she moves to the fridge.

"You mean 'Sterling Construction'?"

"Mmm" she hums in response, squinting at the expiration date of the milk. She needs to buy some milk as well.

"And?"

"According to and based on all the information I was provided with I don't see any possible scenario for this company to keep its head above the water unless they sell at least part of their so called 'arms'. It's either selling their subsidiaries in Milwaukie and Minneapolis or risking bankruptcy with no possible lanes to restoration through loans nor assigned trusties; and by risking I mean a 95% feasibility of collapsing this upcoming year that rises to a 98.3% the following year." She states all business-like and it feels nice to talk about those things, to feel secure and knowledgeable even if just for a minute. Work is the only thing that makes sense these days, the only thing that hasn't changed or has been affected by the recent events. Numbers are still numbers, the law remains the same. It makes things easier, clearer, when she works.

Kathryn's sigh is heard all too well over the line.

"I thought so" she admits, sounding unhappy about it.

"I can send it to you in a minute" she says, finally getting back to the phone "I just need to go over it one last time. Which reminds me," she takes a breath "if you need more help, even if it's not economy related, you can send it to me, I have some time on my hands." 

Kathryn doesn't answer for a moment and Regina stiffens. Should she have kept the last sentence to herself?

"Okay…" Kathryn says eventually, but she sounds reserved and Regina wants to bang her head against the wall. What did she do that for? 

"Is everything okay?" Kathryn asks gently.

"Of course it is" she says and she doesn't need to see or hear Kathryn to know that the blonde doesn't buy it.

"I see" she replies, completely and utterly unconvinced. The awkward silence that follows makes Regina shudder. 

"Anyway," Kathryn interrupts the silence and Regina is grateful "I called to inform you that I'm coming to New York this Friday and I want to cash in that coffee date you promised." Her tone is back to light and Regina grabs the change of course with all her might.

"Sure" she promises, happy to stay out of the unpleasant territory they reached moments prior "Whenever you want, I'm not busy on Friday."

"Well, actually, I have back to back meetings on Friday" Kathryn counters "How about Saturday?" she inquires and Regina doesn't need more than a second to reply with a positive answer. It's not like she has plans.

"Great" Kathryn sums up "I'll see you then."

Once the conversation is over Regina moves to the couch and collapses, limp, on it, the call leaving her mentally exhausted. 

The phone blares again and she wonders what it is that Kathryn forgot to say. With an eye roll she re-approaches the kitchen, freezing when she sees the caller ID.

"What the…" she mumbles to herself as she remains fixated on the buzzing phone. Unable to hang up, she lets it ring, staring at it until the screen goes black again. Her heart is still racing and her breathing rapid when she moves away from the device.

  


***

  


"So, today I want to try something new" Archie says and he looks too goddamn pleased with himself for Regina to feel comfortable. She looks at him suspiciously but he remains unfazed. 

"I know talking about what happened is hard for you" he starts and she already knows this is not something she will like. "And we've waited for a long time, trying to walk around the subject. But at some point, we're going to have to approach it." He determines and she slumps a little in her seat. It makes sense, of course it does, but it doesn't change the fact that she's utterly petrified.

"I'm not asking for a complete confession or a well-rounded story" he reassures quickly "But I do want you to pick one thing, a thing that is incident-related that you haven't told me about. It doesn't have to be big." He says and rips a makeshift note out of his pad. He hands it to her.

"It's more important for me that you acknowledge it yourself rather than tell me about it. So write it down first, and later you'll decide if you want to share it with me or not." He nods encouragingly and shakes the note, the one she still hasn't taken from his hand. She eyes it wearily for another second and then sends a hesitant hand to grab it. He leans back, smiling.

"Take all the time you need." He tries to reassure, to make her feel calm. It doesn't work. Instead, her mind rushes through a hundred things a minute, making her form taut and her heart race. At least he gives her the choice, she acknowledges. He could've simply asked her about what he wants to hear; instead, he gives her freedom, and despite her current road to a panic attack, she appreciates it. She nibbles her lip trying to decide on what it is that she wants to share.

She has no idea if it has been a minute or twenty. Regardless Archie waits patiently for her to scribble down her, in a lack of better word, confession.

She folds it in half and then repeats the action, grasping the note tightly.

"Good" Archie says without even glancing at the paper. "Now I want you to place the note in your wallet and bring it with you to our next session." 

When she frowns he elaborates "I want you to be sure about what it is that you wrote. Take it home, think about it, change it if it feels wrong. The next time you come here we'll read it out loud and we'll repeat this action. Only this time, I will ask you to write it in a notebook. Add a line every time you're due for a session. It's easier that way." The corner of his lips quirk up just enough to qualify as a smile.

Not sure how to respond she just nods curtly and places it safely in her wallet.

  


***

  


She stares at it for the next three days, her opinion turning 180 degrees every five minutes. Eventually, she decides to keep it the way it was originally written. The only change she makes is writing it in a notebook instead. She puts much care into writing it perfectly, the letters round and symmetrical in a quality custom-made pen. She has no clue why she's so intent on aesthetics but she goes with it anyway. Maybe, she thinks later, it's a way of forcing some order and clarity in what could only be described as chaos.

  


***

  


"Have you landed yet?" Regina voices into her phone while staring at the raging storm outside her window. It's mid-November and the winter is hitting the city head-on. It's the first _real_ storm after a month of slight drizzle and warmer than usual temperatures. Maybe it's the weather compensating its lacking presence in the last month, since this storm is everything but under control. 

In a matter of hours, the temperatures dropped, the wind's picked up to a flying speed and ludicrous amounts of rain soaked the city as a whole. Flights have been canceled, tourists got stuck in the city and out of it, and every person with a healthy sense of danger rushed home and locked themselves safely in.

Trust Kathryn Nolan, who's usually perceived as an intelligent human being, to ignore every single warning and go on a high-risk flight. One that wasn't postponed or canceled due to sheer stupidity of the control tower in Chicago O'Hare, which _literally_ seemed to have missed it on the lists. 

God is good to the dumb, it seems, when Kathryn makes it safe and sound to the JFK airport.

"I have, I'm trying to find a cab at the moment but they're all taken." Kathryn sounds exasperated.

"A taxi is a bad idea in this weather" She replies "Take the subway, that way you don't have to face the horrible traffic"

Kathryn huffs "I was hoping not to, it's like three changes just to get to Manhattan and then I need to go uptown for my meetings. And to do all of that with a suitcase in the scraps of rush hours? I don't think so."

Regina runs a hand through her hair. "You have to Kat, you have no other choice."

"Man!" Regina can hear the petulance in her voice and immediately imagines the blonde's face contort into her famous pout; her bottom lip sticking out in a childish yet somehow charming manner, while her nose scrunches in the cutest of ways. She's washed by a sudden urge to see Kathryn. "Fine" she relents "I'll keep you posted"

"Okay, text me once you get there." She instructs and then ends the call.

It's about an hour later that she gets a call from an enraged Kathryn.

"I can't believe it, I just can't believe it!" she rants, sounding exasperated and disappointed all at once. "I get a call on my way to the city, 'Hello,'" she says in a mocking secretary-like tone "'Mrs. Nolan, I'm sorry but we're going to have to reschedule the meetings. Some of our workers haven't made it to work today due to the weather.' Honestly, I didn't fly all the way from Chicago in a middle of a storm for this." She sighs "They're not made of sugar, for Christ's sake, it's not like they're going to melt." She finishes the sentence and goes quiet, her rapid breaths filling the line.

"Kat?" Regina asks tentatively.

"Sorry" she says sheepishly after a moment of silence.

"That's okay" Regina reassures "Would you like to come here instead?"

  


***

  


"Sorry about earlier" is the first thing Kathryn says when Regina opens the door. The blonde's form is completely soaked and there are pieces of loose hair sticking to her neck and face. She looks pissed and tired and cold, mainly cold. So Regina ushers her in.

The warm apartment air does wonders to her dampened mood and she starts shedding wet layers of clothes. Regina takes them from her, hanging them on every available surface in the room. Luckily, her suitcase is one of those water proof ones, and the contents of it remain unharmed.

"How about a nice warm shower?"

When Kathryn steps out of the shower Regina is already pouring the steaming tea into two mugs and places them on the kitchen island. Before she has the time to register what is happening, Kathryn is hugging her. Her body goes rigid at first, unused to human contact. It takes her a moment to realize that she hadn't experienced one since that day. Kathryn doesn't let go and eventually Regina accustoms herself to the situation and places her arms around the blonde's form.

"Hey" Kathryn whispers in her ear, the warm breath hitting her skin and making her shiver.

"Hey" she says in return and untangles herself from the hug.

They both grab a seat on the couch, each on a different end, while clasping tightly to the blissfully steaming cups. 

It's lunch in a heartbeat. Kathryn's exhaustion gets the best of her and so she goes for a nap. After that, it's more aimless chatting, updates on everyone back in Chicago, some office gossip, consultation on financial cases and stories from Kathryn's married life. 

It's around dinner time, and they’re cooking Spaghetti Marinara, when Kathryn has enough with this one side sharing they've been doing all afternoon.

"So" she promotes while stirring the sauce non-stop, despite Regina’s specific instructions to let it cook untouched. "How about you? What have you been up to?" she asks casually but Regina can feel her eyes piercing holes in her back. Suddenly she's all too concentrated on cutting the tomatoes.

"Nothing special" she dismisses "Some work, some reading. Like I said, a much needed break."

Break. Her pathetic excuse for going away. Really, she doesn't expect anyone to believe that Regina Mills, the firm's biggest workaholic, the one that would have slept in the office had it had beds, needed a break. Still, she stuck with that excuse, repeating it again and again to anyone who asked, explaining the need for a change of scenery, for some time-off. 

It's absurd, unrealistic, and overall ridiculous, and she sure doesn't expect Kathryn to buy that nonsense. What she does expect is for her to pick up the clue that something may be wrong but discussing it is off-limits. 

So far, Kathryn had been nothing but considerate and supporting. Now, it seems, she ran out of patience.

"What do you do on your free time?" her eyes narrow. She doesn't buy it, Regina can tell, but she goes ahead with the conversation anyway.

"I volunteer at the local library" she provides some truth, hoping it would satisfy Kathryn's curious side.

"Really?" she looks genuinely surprised.

"Really" she confirms and places the symmetrical cubes of tomatoes in the salad bowl. She moves to cut red peppers.

"How did _that_ happen?" Kathryn is intrigued, enough to finally quit stirring, and turns to look at her.

Regina shrugs. "It just did."

"Mmm" Kathryn narrows her eyes in suspicion, but decides to drop it. "Made any friends? Someone worth meeting?"

Regina freezes for a moment, then, she picks herself up pretty quickly and continues like nothing has happened.

"No, not really"

She doesn't turn around and Kathryn doesn't respond and that silence is kept during the rest of their meal.

They wait for the weather to subside, but it only gets worse. Reluctantly, Regina offers Kathryn to stay over that night, praying for an unlikely refusal from the blonde. Kathryn agrees.

They watch some meaningless TV. It’s rather early when Kathryn, who’s still very much drained, and Regina, who would love some alone time, decide to call it a night.

Regina arranges a makeshift bed on the sofa. Then, she moves to her daily ritual of checking the entrance door and the windows. She's halfway into her room when she turns to Kathryn.

"Good night" she says quietly while staring down at her own feet.

"What happened?" Kathryn asks, her voice tentative and her eyes swim with worry. She doesn't need to elaborate, not a single word, for Regina to know exactly what she refers to, what she’s asking her. 

Regina doesn't answer, just smiles sadly at her and then turns her back on her, entering her bedroom.

She flops on her bed with a defeated sigh, wanting nothing more than to bury herself under the duvet and sleep for a week. But despite the exhaustion that washes over her, she grabs a book from her night stand and turns the light on. She leans against the headrest and starts reading.

She’s not getting to sleep tonight.

  


***

  


She shoots up in her bed, her body shaking and sweaty, her breath rapid as she tries to get some sense of clarity. Her heart stops when she feels the pressure of the hands on her inner thighs, inching closer and closer.

She scraps them off violently, desperately. Chest heaving and eyes bulging, she struggles to get herself away from that bed, away from him. She crushes to the floor, ignoring the book, that was originally on her lap, as it hits the floor next to her.

She scrambles to the corner of the room with the blanket grasped tightly in her hands, so tight her knuckles turn white.

The light is already on, one less step in her usual routine. 

She tries to get her watery eyes and shaky breath under control. Shutting them forcefully, she keeps telling herself _He is not here, You are safe, He can't touch you, You ARE safe._

"Regina?" Kathryn gasps, out of the blue, making Regina jump so violently that she hits her head against the wall. A weak hand quickly flies to the forming bump, pressing it to try and shoo the pain away.

"Are you alright?" Kathryn rushes towards her, halting when Regina presses herself harder into the wall, wrapping the blanket tightly around herself.

"Wait" she pleads, her voice raspy and shaking, her face white a sheet. "Wait" she croaks again and she's so intent on keeping Kathryn away that she neglects the duty of holding _herself_ together. The next thing she knows, she's sobbing. Kathryn is in her personal space in a second, scooping her hunched form into her lap. She holds her tightly, providing a shield without even intending to. The blonde hums a surprisingly soothing tune, her hands caressing the brunette’s lower back, as she nudges both of them back and forth.

They sit there for a long, long time. Until Regina stops crying, until Kathryn's tear-soaked shirt dries, until there's nothing left but understanding that it was, again, just a dream.

Kathryn's hands ghost over Regina's thighs, gently, over the angry red lines that decorate her soft skin.

"What the hell happened?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I usually don't end this story with cliff hangers but this was a long picture that needed to be cut somewhere so unfortunately this is where we cut.


	6. Drowning Sorrows

**Chapter 6-**

**Drowning Sorrows**

  


"There you go" Kathryn hands her a glinting glass tumbler. Regina takes it willingly, lifting it up to look at the golden liquid inside. She swirls the glass and watches as it caresses the edges, higher and higher until she stops the motion.

Kathryn takes a sit on the couch, this time much closer to Regina. She looks at her expectantly and Regina pulls the blanket tightly around her form. The vague noises of the storm are surprisingly soothing when she's safe and warm, and she uses the short lived boost of confidence to kick start an awfully unwanted conversation.

"How much do you know?" she speaks into her glass, eyes still glued to the amber liquid.

"Excuse me?" she hears the frown in Kathryn's voice and looks up, meeting with a confused blonde. 

"Remember when I asked for Fred's help?" she promotes and a nod of approval soon follows "What did he tell you?"

"About the work he did for you?" she asks, and when Regina tilts her head for her to go on, she shrugs "Not a lot."

"Okay," she responds and takes another sip, finding comfort in the burning sensation of the Scotch as it slides down her throat. "What _did_ he tell you?" she asks again, intent on having the full picture before she exposes any information.

Kathryn frowns but answers nonetheless.

"He said he was doing a job for you, a background check and that it was personal."

Regina's eyebrows shoot up "Is that all?" she asks incredulously, surprised at Fred's ability to hold her secrets from his wife. Surprised and relieved. And impressed.

"That's all"

They slip into a thoughtful silence before Regina picks the conversation up again.

"It was a psychologist" she throws the statement into the shared air between them "something happened to me." she mumbles while picking nonexistent dirt off her lap, anything to avoid eye contact. "Something I thought I could overcome by myself, but I was proven wrong." It's incredibly vague and not nearly enough, she's aware, but it's a start.

"And what does Cora have to do with that?" Kathryn inquires, blissfully unaware of the baggage she was, in a way, currently prying in. Regina's head snaps up.

"Mother?" she asks cautiously, her posture guarded as her walls snap right back up.

"Yes," Kathryn confirms "when she heard I was coming to New York she came to talk to me." the blonde looks confused as she unfolds that memory "She mentioned me being your friend, knowing we're in touch. She asked for your contact information." She elaborates and Regina stiffens "I didn't give it to her, told her it wasn’t mine to give." she reassures upon seeing Regina’s guarded, and dare she say it, scared demeanor. "Needless to say, she was not happy about it, but she came around eventually and asked me to tell you that she wishes to talk to you, for you to contact her so you two could ‘move past that hiccup and get on with your lives’."

Kathryn finishes, motioning quotation marks when saying Cora’s words. Regina, in turn, feels the straining vein in her forehead threatening to pop.

"That's what she called it? A hiccup?" she sneers, shaking her head. Unbelievable. This woman is unbelievable. "Well, she can keep trying, I'm not reaching out." She states angrily.

Feeling too damn charged to remain seated, she gets up and starts walking in an attempt to calm herself down. 

"Does this hiccup have anything to do with you shaking and crying on the floor in the middle of the night?" Kathryn asks bluntly and Regina flinches before she can help it.

"It was just a nightmare" she tries to dismiss, but Kathryn is not in the mood for games. Or being lied to. Or being avoided.

"This is not a nightmare, my friend" she states defiantly "This has trauma written all over it." She states knowingly while motioning wildly with her hands "that's how I was for the better part of a year after the Brooklyn thing"

Kathryn was fresh out of grad school with a degree in hand and dreams as big as they get. But in order to practice the law she needed an internship. She fought long and hard for a space at Hoffman's Law Services against two other graduates from their class, who were just as qualified but apparently less 'aesthetically pleasing'; as the HR manager told Kathryn weeks later.

That kind of internship can push you straight to the big league. The only shortcoming in going to such a prestige program was the fact that this job wasn't paying. Hoffman's, like many prestige program holders, relied on their statues and reputation to avoid offering any salary for the interns' work. The name and possible job offers that followed these kind of programs were enough for every Law student to jump on the opportunity, despite the shortage in funds caused by that decision. In fact, Kathryn knew this was coming and planned for it, saving as much money as possible prior to her graduation. With some help from her parents she secured, barely, her financial state for the entire period of the program.

The only sacrifice she had to make was the location. A graduate fresh out of college who's not getting paid for the following months could in no way afford a place in the heart of the city. Reluctantly so, Kathryn was bound to desert her beloved Manhattan and move to the slightly-less-shiny Brooklyn. 

It was a small apartment and the drive to and from work took nearly two and half hours but Kathryn was determined on making it work so she could finish the program and go conquer the world.

It was two months into living in Brooklyn and one of many late nights at work that Kathryn was robbed. She was making her way home from the train station in the dark when two buff men appeared from behind a corner. There were shouts and threats and a knife was pulled out. Kathryn didn't oppose, simply handing everything she had and they took off.

Regina will never forget getting that phone call. She was studying for an exam when an unfamiliar number appeared on the screen of her cell. When she picked up the phone, Kathryn's sobs were heard in the background. Regina was in her boots and out the door before the person on the phone could even state what happened. She went to pick her up from one of her neighbors’ apartment and drove her to the police so she could press charges.

Kathryn was traumatized for weeks after that. She refused to walk alone, or in the dark for that matter. She had nightmares almost every night for the following weeks and she kept looking behind her shoulders in fear someone was coming for her.

That was not a nice time, not for Kathryn who struggled to keep herself in the program and keep her head above water and neither for Regina, who was worried about her only friend and mad at herself not being there for her, not nearly enough.

"Well?" Kathryn coaxes, looking determined on receiving an answer.

Regina downs the glass and places it on the table. 

"I-" she clears her throat, stalling. She might sound unaffected, but her stomach is flipping and her limbs feel weak. 

Kathryn looks at her expectantly.

She opens her mouth, the words right there at base of her throat, waiting to be voiced. But she can't voice them, she's physically unable to.

"I can't" she bobs her head in defeat, leaning back into the couch. 

"You can" Kathryn counters, leaning forward and squeezing her knee in a comforting gesture. "I'm not going to judge you, I'm not going to tell anyone. Hell, I'm not going to do anything if you don't want me to. I just want to know what happened, what broke my best friend." 

Something in those words gets to her, pierce a hole in her heart. Maybe it's the feeling of care and affection that she hasn't felt in months, maybe it's knowing that someone out there fights for her, with her. That someone out there cares enough to push against the defenses she places behind each and every turn leading to the truth, rather than be fazed by it. Whichever the reason may be, it has her crying before she knows it.

"Just tell me" Kathryn's hands are around her in a second, squeezing tightly. She closes her eyes and just for a minute she convinces herself that she is a child again and Daddy is hugging her, wiping away her tears. Just for a minute, the pain is merely a physical one, a simple scratch on her knee from tripping while running and not a broken soul trying and failing miserably to mend itself back together. 

"I was assaulted" she rasps out into Kathryn's neck, hiding, ashamed. She feels Kathryn's hands stiffen at the admission. 

"As in…?" she trails off, unsure.

"Yes" 

It's a simple word that has the power to destroy her completely. The first time she actually admits it out loud, making it real. Too real for her to handle. Suddenly, she's overcome by the urge to disappear, craving the obliviousness booze can provide her with such little effort. But when she tries to reach out for the bottle Kathryn stops her.

"No" she says harshly "you will not drown yourself in liquor."

"Why not?" she rasps out in a whine, sounding like a little girl all over again, one that is deprived from her heart's wish.

"Because," Kathryn replies and her voice is nothing but authority and saddened wisdom "once you drown your sorrows in liquor, you'll never face your troubles again."

And Kathryn would know all too well, having her mother lapse into a destructive drinking pattern after an ugly divorce when the blonde was just a child.

Regina doesn't know what she wants yet, but she sure as hell doesn't want that. As if her life wasn’t screwed up enough. So, she retracts her hand, leaning back into Kathryn's form for comfort instead.

They don't talk after that. Don't try to go back to sleep either. Instead, they turn on the TV and stare at it quietly, minds distracted. Kathryn tries to bring it up again but Regina leaves no room for sharing, she feels violated enough as it is, exposed, ashamed, regretful. It doesn't feel good, sharing, not this once, and that is devastating to her more than anything.

The storm is slightly better the next day and Kathryn takes off to do what she came all the way from Chicago for, leaving Regina empty and hollow, but relieved at the same time. The loneliness is welcomed as she finally takes the heavy, emotionally exhausting, guard down. There's no need to pretend that she's fine anymore, that she's not entirely broken.

  


***

  


"Fine" 

"Fine?" Archie looks utterly surprised at the positive answer. Which is understandable considering the fact that the answer has been negative and always negative prior to that moment. 

"Fine" she confirms "I'll read it"

She's clutching to her notebook, so tightly she fears it will snap. It's not the first time she has brought it along. It is, however, the first time she intends on actually opening it and reading its content out loud. Not to herself and the empty walls of her apartment but to another human being. 

It's time, she thinks to herself, to share it with him. She fears that if she doesn’t do it now, she will never do it. She's on a streak, using the temporary moment of courage after telling Kathryn in order to push the toxic words out of her, voice them in front of someone who can actually help. 

It's out, she tries to reason to herself, it's no longer a secret, so why not share it with one more person; one who has the knowledge and experience to maybe help her get through this. Maybe this confession won't leave her regretful like the previous one did. Maybe this time something will change. Change for the better. God knows she can’t handle that bottled up truth poisoning her insides much longer.

"Alright" he nods curtly after a minute of trying to wrap his head around the situation "whenever you're ready."

Her hands are slightly shaking when she opens the notebook; staring at the neat handwriting, the confessions, the secrets she had never shared before.

Her eyes land on a rather simple one, not too revealing but still powerful, exposing, important.

She clears her throat. Avoiding eye contact, she stares long and hard at the blue ink imprinted on the slightly yellowish page.

"When I got my-" she stops to take a breath "my period, for the first time after the incident" her neck strains as she pushes the words out "I cried, uncontrollably, for an hour maybe" she says dryly but her eyes tear up despite her wishes for them not to "I was so relieved that-" she sniffs, using the pad of her finger to break a perfectly constructed tear on her lash line, causing a trail of wetness on her finger "that I wasn't pregnant, relieved that I didn’t have to carry this thing with me forever." She throws into the quiet space between them.

"Little did I know I _was_ going to carry this with me forever." She states bitterly, ignoring Archie's sympathetic stare.

  


***

  


It had been weeks and multiple appointments since this subject came up. And to be honest, Regina has forgotten about it a long time ago, dismissive of the idea even back then.

Archie, apparently, hasn't.

They're nearing the end of December, going into the holiday season, when he brings it back up.

She's in the midst of shedding layers of clothes, which are no longer necessary now that she’s in the warm office rather than the blizzard-stricken streets. 

"I have an idea" he says happily before even taking a seat. Regina rolls her eyes at the enthusiasm, still quite allergic to his optimism, but listens nonetheless.

"Okay" she responds carefully, placing the coat next to where she sits on the couch, folding it neatly and then running her hand over it to smooth out any possible creases.

"Don't overrule it on the spot" he pleads "just listen and take it home and sleep on it" he instructs and she nods reluctantly, unable to stand his pleading look any longer; resembling to a pout way beyond acceptable, or tolerable for that matter, for a man his age. Pouting is for kids and puppies only. And Kathryn.

"Remember all those weeks ago when we talked about your fear, or reluctance, shall we say, of people?" 

_Great,_ Regina thinks, _bringing up the deep stuff right off the bat._

"Well?" she coaxes, avoiding agreeing with that statement.

"We also talked about exercising as part of battling depression and anxiety. How about we mix the two?" he clasps his hands excitedly and she frowns in response, getting more uncomfortable and suspicious by the minute.

"I don't know how it hasn't occurred to me before" he mumbles, mostly to himself, but loud enough for her to hear "I've tried it multiple times in the past, and it was always proved a success." 

At that, he turns to her "How would you feel about taking self-defense classes?" he asks and that's the last thing she expects to come out of his mouth.

"I- what?" she stutters, perplexed, as the multiple comebacks prepared in her head are no longer relevant.

"Self-defense classes, martial arts, harnessing this sport in order to gain confidence and tools to deal with unwanted attention and contact." He states knowingly, sounding almost like a well rehearsed salesman, his gestures short and energy filled.

"It could provide you with skills to defend yourself if needed, it can help you deal with your fear and anxiety while getting some highly recommended physical activity in a social environment; which is also something we talked about, that we thrive to achieve."

"I don't know" she says doubtfully.

"I said not to make up your mind, didn't I?" he smiles warmly at her "Think about it, that's all I ask." He moves to his desk and retrieves a card with details on it. The name 'The Ring, Martial Arts Academy' imprinted on the thick white card with a phone number and an address provided right underneath.

"This place specializes in MMA and Krav Maga, which, from what I understand, are forms of defense oriented styles of Martial Arts. The place is co-run by an acquaintance of mine, Emma Swan, she is wonderful. I know they have women only classes which might suit your needs."

He hands it over and she takes it, her thumb running over the imprinted words.

"Give her a call, schedule a meeting and see if it fits you." He encourages and she doesn't respond, flipping the card in her hands over and over again.

  


***

  


It's staring at her for days, taunting her. She keeps picking it up, contemplating a call, only to change her mind at the last minute and re-place it on the bulletin board above her work desk.

Her initial refusal, partially due to her habit to question each and every help-offering, subsides, and suddenly it doesn't seem so off-course. It's seems reasonable, even, desirable she dare say, and the fact that it's a women only class intrigues her more than she cares to admit. 

Her curiosity combined with her constant boredom and search of distraction paint a rather appealing concept, one she's seriously contemplating for the better part of her days.

Knowing all too well that the already small workload she has now will decrease significantly once the holiday season officially arrives, she picks up the white card for what must be the hundredth time. She grabs her phone and enter the numbers, thumb placed inches away from the 'call' button.

She waits for something to happen, for a wave of courage to wash over or a sudden change of heart. Anything, really, would be better than standing undecided.

When she realizes nothing grand will take place, she pushes herself, just enough to actually press the touch-screen. She places the phone next to her ear, pacing nervously while waiting for someone to pick up. It's only two rings in and she is ready to fold, but then there's a female voice filling the line.

"Hello?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I kinda did it again, ending with a cliffhanger I mean. Sorry… =P
> 
> It might not look like a big decision, picking up the phone and calling… But it's more of what it signifies: taking action, actively trying to change the current situation; it's more than she has done before. Actually, it's the largest step she has taken since deciding to go to Archie. Also, a certain lovable blonde is finally about to make an appearance. And no, it's not Kathryn ;)


	7. Women Only

**Chapter 7-**

**Women Only**

  


She enters the mid-size brown-bricked building, appreciating the immediate wave of hot air that welcomes her as she steps in. It's beyond freezing outside, as it would be in New York City's mid-winter, and she's grateful to have made it in one piece. It's not snowing, at least not in the past three days, which sure is unfortunate since it means the skies are clear, leaving no barrier between the atmosphere's freezing temperature and the poor city located underneath. Therefore, allowing the creation of vicious air tunnels that are accompanied by extremely low temperatures. She feels sorry, honestly, for people who don't like to stay at home since the last couple of weeks forced practically everyone off the streets, even the resilient ones.

Despite the physical relief that follows upon entering a heated space, her emotional state of stress hasn't budged an inch. If anything, it has gotten worse.

She takes a look around. 

She's standing on a wooden floor, but most of the space around her is covered with mattresses and nothing but mattresses. Blue, red, thin, thick, on the floor and on the walls and in piles at the corners of the training hall. Mattresses everywhere.

There are people training, lifting weights, punching heavy bags, jumping rope. She counts five of them, which one would consider not much unless you take the weather and the fact that it's a week-day morning under consideration. Four guys and a girl, who’s wearing a low cut tank top that exposes evident ribs and muscular, tattooed arms.

She turns to look at a washed-up door straight ahead. It's closed, on it taped a white piece of paper, announcing 'Staff'. Unsure of what to do next she glances at her watch, making sure for the tenth time that she isn't early. She is right on time, she notes, just as the hand moves to twelve, joining its friend as they both indicate noon.

She clutches to the handbag placed on her shoulder with both hands, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

She is in the midst of giving herself a pep talk about the importance of punctuality and being on time as a way of living when the door bursts open, making her jump.

"Don't you dare Lil, I’m warning you" is heard from inside but the tone is light and teasing more than it is threatening. A second later a figure comes to into sight. Cackling, a brunette woman makes her way out of the room. She doesn't halt when her eyes land on Regina, merely keeps walking past her while yelling-

"You’ve got company"

Before disappearing behind the corner. 

Regina can hear the chair scraping the floor as the person sitting on it gets up. The door opens further, revealing a young looking blonde woman. 

"You must be Regina" she says casually and when Regina gives her a stiff nod in return she gestures for the brunette to follow her inside the room "Come on in"

She follows her into the small office, awkwardly standing near the door while the woman lifts ludicrous amounts of things off of what is supposed to be her chair. After simply transferring the unidentified pile to a different available surface she pats the chair as a silent invitation for Regina to sit and moves around the desk to her own chair.

Regina hesitates for a moment before accepting the offer and taking a seat.

They stare at each other silently before realization downs on the blonde. She smacks her head and shakes it.

"Oh!" she calls, amused "How rude of me" she chuckles, worry-free "I'm Emma Swan" she puts her hand out and Regina accepts it, almost gasping at the warmth and strength of the shake. 

"Regina Mills" she responds politely, courtesy taking its place after many years of the appropriate upbringing.

"Nice to meet you" she says, lips quirked up as her eyes duck down, scanning her companion from head to toe only to meet with her eyes again when she's done.

"You too" Regina mumbles out of habit more than anything.

"So" Emma leans back in her chair, swinging from left to right like a child "What can I do for you?"

Regina straightens her back even more, if possible, and clears her throat.

"I was considering joining a self-defense class"

"Mmm" Emma nods, her face turning serious as soon as they step into business talk.

"And I heard you were offering classes for women only" her tone rises at the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question more than the statement she was going for.

"We do" Emma confirms "unfortunately this group is full at the moment" she sends her a sympathetic look, combining it with a shrug. She probably notices Regina's slight slump since she adds quickly-

"But we do have other classes with available spots for newcomers" she smiles encouragingly.

"Women only?" she asks and Emma's smile falters ever so slightly.

"No, but it is the same concept, only men and women combined-"

"No" Regina jumps in, effectively cutting her mid-sentence.

"I-" Emma frowns, eyes examining her thoughtfully for a stretched moment. Regina fidgets under her gaze, already regretting coming here, regretting even making the call. This was a stupid idea, she thinks to herself while rising from her seat.

"Wait" Emma calls. Regina stops and turns to look at her, frowning. Emma stares at her thoughtfully, as if aware of the swirling thoughts in Regina's head. It makes Regina uncomfortable, feeling like Emma understands that there is more to it than a mid-thirties woman deciding upon taking self-defense classes just for the sake of it. "Let me see what I can do" Emma says seriously, pulling Regina back to reality. She hesitates but eventually nods.

"You have my number" she states while rising up from her chair.

"Women only?" Emma repeats and again, Regina gets the feeling that there's more to it, to their conversation, to that statement, to her understanding, more than Emma is letting on.

Still, she nods curtly "Women only"

  


***

  


"I'm sorry, but no" Kathryn repeats, confirming Regina's assumption. Still, Regina finds herself disappointed.

"Nothing?" she asks, as if asking it again would magically change the answer, as if suddenly there would be a case to work on, something to do.

The boredom is getting to her. It's a well-known fact that the number of cases, specifically economy related ones, decreases during the holiday season, which results in a major lack of workload. Most people are thrilled about it, at the prospect of not having to work extra hours, of taking days off and spending them with their families, not having to worry about the piling work and late nights that will follow upon that decision. 

And she understands it, she truly does. She never liked it or felt it herself but she could wrap her head around people wanting to be with their loved ones. She respected it.

Now, she is just annoyed. There was no work left to be done, she had finished her assignments days ago. And almost as if to purposely add to her frustration, Heathers called the other day to inform her that the library would be closed during that storm and parts of the holidays. Therefore she also doesn't have that activity to attend to. She has been miserably out of things to do, stuck in her apartment after several attempts of sticking her nose out only to rush back inside, freezing, and clutch to a steaming cup of tea.

"Nothing" Kathryn confirms "There are no people in the corridors" she whispers, baffled "It's only like five pm" she exclaims and Regina nods in agreement before realizing that the blonde can’t see her.

"It's crazy" she says and Kathryn hums.

"Anyway, we don't have enough work to actually fill our days, let alone pass it to you for assistance."

"I see" Regina tries to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Sorry" the blonde mumbles into the silent line.

"It's okay" she dismisses, getting up from the chair to pace a little "I'm just bored, stuck in my apartment all day."

"Oh, there's a storm, right?" Kathryn feigns interest "You whiny babies, what it's like freezing?" she mocks half-heartedly and Regina chuckles. Really, there is no comparing New York's cold to the freezing city of Chicago. Next to her hometown, this place is more like a chilly fall than it is winter. Comparison or no comparison it's still pretty darn cold.

"Come on" she protests "It's cold"

"Come over here and then tell me New York is cold" Kathryn counters, amused "my butt is freezing and I'm not even outside" she bitches and Regina shakes her head.

"I certainly do _not_ miss that"

"Well, I don’t blame you"

They chat for a little while, until Kathryn excuses herself, claiming that if she went outside with her hand out of her glove, she won't have one, and so Regina wishes her a good weekend and ends the call.

She sinks into her sofa, eyes darting all over her apartment while her brain tries to conjure an activity, a distraction.

It's that upcoming weekend and two days into the following week that the storm finally subsides and things, blissfully so, get back to normal.

  


***

  


"He's from work" Regina mumbles dryly. 

Archie doesn't respond, merely listens; staying true to the newly acquired arrangement they have developed over the past few months. He doesn't push or pry anymore, realizing that Regina wants to share as much as he wants her to. So he lets her share, on her own terms, in her way, when she deems it right.

They would meet, as usual, talk and analyze and expand horizons together. Somewhere along the conversation, with no prior warning, she would confess, tell something about her or him or the act and go quiet. He will not ask anything, she will tell him as much as she feels she should. He would keep quiet, letting Regina set the tone of the conversation and its pace.

Usually, she would go back to their original subject, the one she interrupted, leaving Archie with another piece of knowledge of what happened that night. On some occasions, she would elaborate a little, give a context to the out of nowhere confession she had dropped out of the blue.

Either way, he is just happy to see pieces of it, pieces of her, coming out. Slowly but surely climbing out of her shell, exposing piece by piece. The process is tortuously slow but brutally honest and it's so much more than she could have asked for.

"I don't think I can say he was, is, my boss" she muses out loud, in one of those rare occasions when she shares just a little bit more.

"Not by definition, at least." She determines, her voice alarmingly quiet and calm and as he probably suspects, she's detaching herself. It's the only way to push those words out, those balls of fire, without them burning her whole in the process.

"He is superior to me" she nods to herself, satisfied with the definition "Superior to everyone really" her face drops for a millisecond, exposing sadness blended with pain so well to the point one can't tell where one emotion ends and the other starts. "It’s _his_ company after all."

She's silent, they're both silent for a long, long time.

"Such a well-achieved, respectable man" she sneers, sarcasm dripping off of every word; yet, somehow, it feels like the anger in her voice is aimed inwards. As if she's mad at herself for ruining his reputation, for questioning it, rather than the fact that he really isn't that man. Not even close.

  


***

  


"So I gave it up" Katelyn wraps up her story, shrugging in response to Regina's arched eyebrows. "I did" she says again and Regina is already opening her mouth to respond when her phone rings. 

She lifts her finger in a 'hold that thought' motion and gets up to retrieve it.

She answers it, not bothering to look for the Caller ID.

"Hello?" she answers, her voice natural as her eyes follow Katelyn's actions around her desk. They are currently in the midst of re-typing dismantled, over-used, books so they won't have to throw them away. 

"Regina?" the female voice that fills her ear feels somewhat familiar, but she can't seem to pin point the person it belongs to.

"Speaking" she answers regally, scowling at Katelyn's snort. It has become their thing, Katelyn with years and years under her belt mocking Regina for her 'old school like' behavior _._

“ _Do you know that British posh show? The boring one…” she waves her hand erratically as she tries to remember. “Downtown Abby?” Regina provides, unsure, and Katelyn nods enthusiastically “That's the one, you're like them” she cackles while puffing her chest comically and Regina folds her hands in defiance and moves to a different sector of the library._

She is still shooting daggers at Katelyn when the uncertain voice re-makes an appearance.

"It's Emma Swan" she says and it's bordering shy "From the Martial Arts Studio…" she trails off and the end of the sentence sounds more like Emma asks her if she remembers rather than reminding her. 

"Oh, hello" she greets "How are you?"

"Good, good" Emma responds, relief evident in her tone "You?"

"I'm good"

"So" Emma starts and Regina halts, waiting for the remainder of the sentence "We've made room for you" she says and Regina's mind zeros on the word 'made'. Did they kick someone out to put _her_ in? Why would they do that? Actively find a spot for her? They don't even know her. Regardless, she's edging towards excitement.

"In the women only group?" she asks again, just to make sure.

"That's right" Emma confirms and Regina can hear the smile in her voice.

"Thank you" she breathes out and it's more of the fact that someone walked the extra mile for her, despite not having a reason to, than the fact that there is room for her in that class.

"You're welcome. How about you stop by for a visit sometime next week to iron out all the details and I'll show you around?"

"That sounds great" she knows there's a smile plastered on her face, one that she can't for the life of her remove at that moment. But for once, she doesn't mind; not the weird pull at that group of muscles she hasn't used in months, not the way Katelyn is eyeing her suspiciously and excitedly at the same time, not the weird swirling motion in her stomach at the thought of taking another step in the right direction.

"Is Monday morning okay?" Emma asks and she sounds almost as determined as Regina is at the prospect of making it work.

"Monday morning is perfect, see you then"

"Alright, goodbye"

She stares at the phone, with that stupid smile still on her face, not minding Katelyn prying in the slightest. She feels the same way she did when she came back from the second appointment at Archie's, the one she didn't flee from, all excited and pumped to actually see progress. It's different but somehow the same, and she finds that the anxiety of what's to come fades to the background.

  


***

  


That feeling doesn't hold for long. 

On Saturday, she feels a little wary. On Sunday morning, she's rethinking the whole thing while trying to convince herself that everything will be fine. On Sunday evening, she's contemplating canceling. Then, she thinks about Emma finding a spot for her despite not having one available and her mind is made. She is going.

  


***

  


"Hey" Emma greets her as she steps in and Regina has to actively search Emma's whereabouts. Eventually she spots the blonde next to the weights. Unlike their first meeting, in which she was clad in jeans and a large 'The Ring' labeled t-shirt, this time she's in gym clothes. Regina steals a quick look, noting the form-fitting leggings and sweat soaked wife-beater. 

"Sorry about that" she mumbles shyly while placing the weights back in their rack. "I wasn't expecting you this early" she excuses while approaching Regina.

"I can come back later" Regina offers, eyes still on Emma's body. The combination between Emma's lithe, skinny form to her athletic build and muscular hands draws Regina's attention more than she'd have liked to admit. Women this muscular are usually thicker, wide and even manly at times. But Emma, Emma has a feminine quality to her, some grace, and seeing that mixed with that amount of muscle-mass is refreshing and intriguing at the same time. 

"Oh no, that's okay" Emma is quick to reassure "I just hope you don't mind me a little sweaty" she shrugs and Regina's gaze finally goes up to find a red-faced Emma looking at her. There are sweat-soaked strands of hair sticking to the sides of her face and her flushed chest rises up and down rapidly.

"No, that's-" she swallows "that's fine" she sends a small smile Emma's way and the blonde nods.

"Alright, then" she clasps her hands together while tilting her head "follow me"

They walk around the place, which, to her surprise, is much larger than it looked at first. They start with the locker rooms, where the men and women have separately spaces, much to Regina’s delight. Next to it there's the storage room where all the equipment needed for the classes is stored. That includes a pile of white traditional pull overs, in all sizes and shapes. Emma reaches for the stack of fabric, and after a minute or so of ruffling she hands her a set.

"You don't have to wear them for class but we provide you with one and they're pretty comfortable" she hands it over and Regina takes it, not before making an ill-hidden appalled face that makes Emma laugh.

They move on to the training hall where Emma explains about the open area, free to the members at all times.

"You have weights and ropes and punching bags and all sorts of things, so you can come here for in addition to your classes and work out. Now, usually, the people who come here know what they're doing and how to train by themselves but there's always someone around if you get confused or have any questions. It's either me or David, the co-owner of this place." She provides while they make their way towards a door at the far end of the hall.

"This," she opens it to reveal a room, much smaller in size. This one is filled with mattresses as well, only it also has a large mirror covering an entire wall. "is where we have classes that are smaller in size" she explains, gesturing to the room. 

They finish the tour in the staff room where Emma takes Regina's information and signs her in. They go over some basic information such as the price of the program and the frequency of the classes. After that Emma welcomes Regina for joining their Academy and they part ways.

Feeling energized and she dares say optimistic, Regina makes a detour on her way home and stops for some much needed shopping. Her sportswear collection answers to the definition of none existent, she realizes, and therefore allows herself a short and to the point shopping spree.

When she makes it back to the apartment, she is utterly exhausted but sated. Opting on a nap, she heads to her room and sleep arrives in no time.


	8. Breaking The Unending Circle

**Chapter 8-**

**Breaking the Unending Circle**

  


"Today I want to talk a little bit about family" Archie opens and just like that, there's a stone on her heart, weighing her down.

But she already knows that even the 'not so easy topics' should be discussed, regardless of how hard it is for her to do so. She already knows that it's not going to be pleasant, and this session will not go tears-free, yet again. Still, she swallows, her face stoic before signaling with her head for him to continue.

"Tell me a little about your family" he asks and she bets he's almost surprised at how little he actually knows about her personal life. Especially after so many sessions.

Regina has this talent of being able to talk on and on without saying anything personal or significant. She would bomber people with knowledge, having a strong independent mind and opinion on almost every matter out there. She would distract them, drag them to intellectual, political, social subjects, drown them with pointers, food for thought but then, when she's gone and the conversation is over, they’ll realize they have no true sense of who _she_ is. She says nothing personal, nothing to show what is swirling inside her chest and head. Instead, she would turn the focus on the other person, and effectively keep everyone out. And that's how she's reached a point where she can honestly say that no one really knows her, and that she's immensely proud and comforted by that knowledge since she isn't, and will never be, interested in people residing in her head, ever.

This treatment, however, is bound to be different. Yes, she can pull Archie off track quite easily. Despite the recent change of character and behavior she is still in the midst of, Regina is ever the sharp-tongued, conversation leader that she always was. She can make the conversation a full circle, running over the same things again and again, in different words, from different points of view. She can distract him and bounce to a different subject every time it gets personal so that they never, ever, reach the real, sensitive, painful parts.

That's her strength, she knows it. She is in no way made of iron. She is vulnerable, weak at times, and insecure in her head even more than other people. Her strength is keeping everybody out. No one can break the circle if they don't know where the weak spot of it is.

But this _incident_ has changed her, tainted the inside of her circle. It resides within her, poisoning her, destroying her. If the circle stays closed, this blackness will forever remain inside, simple as that; nothing goes in, nothing comes out. And she's tried, god knows she has. Tried facing it herself, tried ignoring it, pretending it didn't happen, convincing herself it's normal, that it's her fault. She tried everything. Nothing worked. She crumbled under the weight of this untold secret, and not simply because it was untold, but also due to the fact that this problem was more than she could handle. She is smart enough to know that.

And that's why she's here, despite it being painful and uncomfortable and everything that comes with it. She's here because she's broken, sometimes it even feels like beyond repair. So broken that she can't move past that crack or live with it. It needs to be fixed.

"Alright" she agrees, the word scraping her throat on its way out, physically hurting her. Because family, with the incident included, is still the most painful spot in her soul.

  


***

  


She enters the locker room with shaking limbs. It's the most people she has seen in one room in a very long time.

They all send quick glances her way before deeming her boring, or at least not interesting enough to stare at, and go back to their previous occupations.

She places her bag in one of the lockers and turns to scan the group of women. Some have the whole white suit on, some hold to the jacket only, and the rest are clad with normal looking sportswear. She fists her hands, looking down at her outfit consciously. She is wearing black leggings, matched with a deep blue turtleneck. Not exactly made for sport, but she's willing to put up with some sweat under that rather thick material if it means she's covered. 

She is not even sure if she's going to participate.

It occurred to her days prior to the first class that she's clueless when it comes to this sport. So she looked it up, body going rigid when she realized that this class was spent mainly in pairings, touching each other all over to forcefully push their opponent to the ground.

She got up, shaking, from her laptop and started pacing around the apartment, trying to calm her racing heart. She can barely stand people two feet away from her, how can she handle them touching her? Groping her?

A small petrified gasp escaped her mouth before she covered it with her hand. This was too much too soon. 

It took her a good couple of hours to convince herself to at least show up to the class. She had to rely on herself for conviction since she hadn't told Archie about it. She feared getting his hopes up when she was pretty sure she wouldn't even last a week. So she kept that a secret, one to be revealed only and _if_ she actually sticks to it.

She follows the group of ladies to the small studio.

Emma stands near the door, greeting the comers as they pass her on their way to the corner where all the shoes are discarded.

Emma looks at her, brow furrowing as she takes in her hesitant walk and worried face.

"Hey" she greets, tilting her head.

"Miss Swan" Regina nods stiffly, the nerves immediately throwing her back to courtesy and cold manners.

Emma snorts in amusement "I don't think I ever had anyone call me that before" she shakes her head "it's just Emma" she pushes herself off the wall and makes her way to Regina. Somehow, as if sensing it, she doesn't touch Regina, comforting her simply with attention. 

"You'll be fine" she promises.

"We'll see about that" she counters, hands twisting near her mid-section.

Emma looks at her for a stretched moment, making Regina fidget even harder under her gaze. 

"I might sit this one out" she chokes out eventually, instantly mad at herself, at the wavering in her tone. 

Emma chews her lip in contemplation. "How about you start with us, just the warm up and then see how you feel once we get to the pairings. I won't force you if you don't feel comfortable" she adds quickly.

"Okay" Regina says eventually, a warm up she can do.

"Good" Emma seems satisfied "Come on" she motions for the brunette to follow inside.

"Good afternoon, ladies. How are we all doing?" Emma clasps her hands, her tone casual yet confident as she approaches the front of the room. There are mumbles of 'good' and 'good afternoon' greetings in return. Regina keeps quiet, standing at the far corner in the back of the group, as unseen as she can possibly manage.

"Well" Emma stops the mumbling and slight chatter that evolves over the greetings "let's start with the warm-up, shall we?"

They start with head rolls, stretches to the sides and rotating their ankles. Then Emma has them jumping in place, followed by running with their knees up and ending with jumping jacks. It's less than ten minutes into the class and Regina is already hyperventilating and trying to keep herself from vomiting.

They move to some stretching, in order to get their breathing back under control. That part is easier for Regina, as a former ballet dancer and an enthusiastic pilates goer up until a couple months back. Emma has them on their butts, legs straight in front of them as they reach for their toes. This is the first time since the beginning of the class that Regina feels slightly good about herself. She glances at the other women. Some barely reach their feet and the others can't manage to do even that. She, on the other hand, leans forward, belly almost in one line with her legs as her hands wrap around her feet, and pulls her forward so that her nose is bumps against her knees. She is slightly out of shape, not having stretched like this in months, and she's sure the delicious pull at her muscles will be there tomorrow when she wakes up.

Emma claps her hand for them to end the stretch and when Regina lifts herself up she locks eyes with a surprised, and maybe even slightly impressed, Emma, observing her. Soon their little stare off is ended when Emma moves to explain the next drill.

The slight ease Regina finally finds herself in is taken from her once Emma orders the group to pair up. Regina stands there, awkwardly, as all the women move towards their probably longtime partner all while she remains by herself.

Knowing that's her cue, she moves back and sits on the bench, watching Emma's face crumble for a millisecond before she continues with the class. Regina pays close attention to the blonde's explanations of how the opponent's strength is actually their weakness if you learn how to harness it to your own benefit. She goes on to show several moves on how to tackle, disarm, and even completely neutralize a potential attacker.

She then watches the girls trying the moves on their partner while Emma moves between them with watchful eyes, correcting slight deviation in movements and pointing out ways to fix them.

And in a blink of an eye the class is over. Regina gets up and takes part in the final stretching session before Emma dismisses them all, wishing them a nice weekend.

The room is halfway depleted when Regina hears her name being called. She turns to see Emma signaling for her to wait, so she waits obediently for the instructor to finish talking to two women.

Eventually, it's just them.

"So" Emma hesitates "how was your first lesson?" she asks and she seems genuinely interested.

"It was quite alright, thank you" Regina tilts her head, eyes cast down.

"You don't have to be all formal with me, it's okay" Emma says and Regina glances up to see her shrugging with a simple smile. 

"Noted" she nods curtly, feeling like she had enough human interaction for a week "I'll see you next week?" she half asks, half states and Emma nods in return.

Regina turns to leave. She's halfway through the door when Emma calls behind her:

"Think you'll do the pairing next time?" 

Regina weighs her words before looking back apologetically "I don't think so" she says and strolls out of the room.

Overall, social anxiety and all, she feels quite accomplished. She almost sneers at herself when she realizes how pathetic is sounds. This? Going to a martial arts class is an accomplishment? Once again she's appalled by the weak person she has become. She walks home feeling depressed and disappointed instead.

Still, the feeling of self-loathing passes eventually, like it always does, and when that happens she feels a little lighter knowing that she made it through the class.

  


***

  


"Oh, watch out, it's Jackie Chan!" Katelyn calls out the minute Regina steps through the door, her entire form covered with snow that stuck to her clothes.

Regina rolls her eyes so hard, that they almost pop out of their sockets.

"Katelyn" she sighs, shaking her head, long accepting the librarian's goofy and refusing to mature sense of humor. Katelyn, in return, jumps out of her chair, hands trying to mimic a martial arts move. 

Regina holds the second cup of coffee above the trash bin at the entrance.

"No, wait!" Katelyn's hands move to a surrendering motion when she finally acknowledges and comprehends the threat.

"So cut it out" Regina grumbles, taking a seat next to the old lady.

"You act _so_ old" she bites and Regina sends a deadly look her way.

"You are just old" she stabs back, snorting at Katelyn's unamused glare.

They chat a little, like they always do and then move to tend the books; organizing, cleaning and organizing again. Regina, finished with the aisle she assigned herself for that day, moves willingly to her favorite aisle in search of a book she has yet to read.

"Who's Robin?" Katelyn calls from the far end.

"What?" Regina raises her voice, frowning at the random question.

"There's a Robin calling you" Katelyn's voice is no longer as loud as it was when she was far. She comes into view, halting upon seeing Regina's pale face.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asks, her tone turning maternal almost immediately and Regina nods curtly, moving to take the device from her. She hands it over with no real resistance, eyes still on her, examining her.

Regina looks down to confirm that it is, in fact, Robin. She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry, its texture almost like sandpaper.

"'Gina, honey?" Katelyn asks again, worrisome covering her face "Is everything okay?" 

"Yes, it's-" she nods, blinking fast as she tries to wrap her head around it. It has been months, is he still…? That can't be right. She stares intently at the phone in her hands as it rings and rings and rings. Eventually, it ends and she sighs in relief, body slumping just a little. "I'm fine" she plasters a smile on. It's forced and not convincing in the slightest but it's the best she can pull off at the moment. 

Katelyn is not buying it, that much is obvious, but she respects Regina's boundaries and refrains from mentioning it any further. 

Regina’s thankful, she really is, but that doesn't stop her mood from spiraling down into a pool of darkness. She misses self defense class that day, unable to lift herself off the couch when life seems, once again, to catch up to her. Leaving her afraid and mournful.

  


***

  


She feels bad about it. It has been nagging her, taunting her, harassing her. And the worst thing is that those are her own thoughts. It's not a person she can avoid, a message she can ignore, it's all her; every day, all day.

It's a combination of this call, accompanied merely a day later by another one, this time, from her mother; which goes unanswered as well. Of course that won't be enough, oh no. She has to receive a call from Kathryn telling her that _he_ asked about her, her whereabouts. Regina brushes it off, muttering a completely irrelevant and unsatisfying explanation and ends the call, running to the bathroom immediately after with hands on her mouth and a churning stomach threatening to climb out of her throat.

It's one of those days when nothing seems valid; not the progress she has made, not the barriers she's fighting to overcome, not the person she's trying to be. Those days, when a single call brings her back to who she was when she had just started; alone and scared and broken. As if none of the progress she has worked so hard to achieve is there anymore. It's genuinely hard for her to fight and want to get better, and it's heart-wrenching and plain discouraging to see how simple and easy it is for her to just spiral back to being her old broken self; as if no time has passed, no work has been put, no change has been made.

It's one of those days when she can't for the life of her find a purpose, a desire to fight, a reason to want to change something. Why should she? Break her walls down, tear herself apart in the process of healing if in the end it all comes back to this. 

She spends the next couple of days practically reverting to her old self. She misses the MMA class yet again and doesn't bother showing up to help Katelyn. The only thing she does stick up to, more because she suffocates without it rather than believing it would actually help, is Archie.

He immediately notices the change in her demeanor, frowning upon her troubled face and stiff posture.

"I'm lonely" she says before he gets the chance to say anything, to make an observation, to acknowledge the difference in Regina.

It has nothing to do with what she's currently dealing with, with the swirling emotions and fears that re-surface at the face of a trigger. But she's drowning within herself. So she shares. Something completely off-topic, yet still personal and painful. She shares because she feels like if she doesn't release at least some kind of toxic thoughts and emotions that reside inside her, tainting her, she will simply explode. So yes, talking about _him_ and her mother seem far in the horizon, inevitable yet so far away but this, this is her attempt of blowing some steam off, releasing pressure before it gets too much, too crowded in her 'that's why I don't want to live' zone.

"Since the incident?" Archie, as expected, jumps on the opportunity to discuss real emotions rather than behavioral patterns that might stand for mental distress caused by things they _don’t_ talk about.

"As well" she replies, feeling uncomfortable despite it being her initiation.

"As well?" Archie frowns "Please elaborate"

She sighs, slumping in her seat a little before opening her mouth again.

"I was lonely before as well, it's just-" she scratches the back of her neck, looking for eloquence that fails to arrive "It's a different kind of lonely."

"How so?" Archie looks intrigued and she realizes that this is right up his ally, this is what he signed up for. Well, she thinks to herself, at least one of them is enjoying this.

"Before the incident" she clears her throat, gathering herself, still sensitive to the use of this word. She thinks about Archie's implications about thinking of using a more accurate term. Doing this, he claims, is a crucial step forward in accepting the act in order to move forward and treat it. _You can't,_ he argued, _help an addict if he doesn't know or acknowledge that he is one._ _How can you fix a problem without even knowing it exists?_ He said, sending her home with material to mule it over in her head. It does make sense, she concludes eventually, days after. But a lot of things about this whole ordeal make sense in her head, it doesn't change the fact that they're difficult, if not impossible, to execute once it comes to it.

Realizing that she has drifted away, she pulls herself back to their spoken conversation.

"I was lonely, but not alone." She concludes "Now I know those two aren't the same, sometimes they're not even related or dependent on one another. But I, I was surrounded by people, people who wanted to befriend me or spend time with me. I _chose_ to not let them in. It was my choice to be lonely; therefore, there were other possibilities available to me at all times. Now, however" she stops for a deep breath "now I'm lonely and alone and it's not my choice anymore. I used to avoid human contact on the mere base of me not needing it or wanting it, I was fine with my two or three close friends and my work, I didn't seek anything else in that department. But after the incident I, I can't-" she lets out a shuddering breath, feeling her heart tighten "I'm alone. When I needed the human contact the most, I was, and am alone. I can't confide in anyone about what I'm going through, I have one friend that I'm talking to at the moment and even she's only partially aware. I can't seem to open myself up to anyone new which proves problematic considering the fact that I'm in a new place, away from all that is familiar."

He scribbles down something and looks back up at her, his gaze thoughtful as he tries to find a solution for a problem that simply can't be solved.

"So why don't you-"

"Get back to Chicago?" she finishes for him and he nods "I can't." she states with an uncharacteristic shrug "I also don't want to." She adds before he can protest "The people who do want me around are not people I want around me, if that makes sense…" she trails off, suddenly uncertain.

"It does" he confirms "But it is something we're going to have to discuss at some point" he adds and she accepts it, despite not liking the idea. Because at the end of the day, you can't solve the problem if you refuse to tend to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s a little discouraging and painful to see Regina so hurt, but I promise it gets better, just hang in there :) Oh! And let me know what you think in the comments :P


	9. A Point Nonetheless

**Chapter 9-**

**A point nonetheless**

  


Her phone is ringing, that much she can register in her sleepy state.

It's ringing again and again and she groans at it but ends up lifting herself off the couch, leaning to retrieve her cell. She squints at the screen, her sight still blurry and cobwebs-filled. It's not Mother, or Robin for that matter, and she deems it safe to accept the call.

"Hello?" she rasps out into the line, her voice lower than usual.

"Err" the recipient on the other line pauses, probably slightly thrown off by that "Regina?"

"Speaking" she rubs her eyes for a long moment, trying to wake herself up a bit.

"This is Emma" the voice says "Swan" she adds and Regina is a little more alert after that.

"Miss Swan" she acknowledges, and that wakes her up almost immediately. 

Emma’s chuckles fills the line "Again with the Miss Swan thing?" she teases and there's the smallest of smiles gracing Regina's lips in the face of Emma's clear discomfort with formality.

"Emma" she corrects, imagining the blonde’s nod of approval at that "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was actually calling to ask" she hears an intake of breath "You missed the last two classes and I was wondering if something was wrong or maybe you weren't taken with the class like I assumed you were…" the blonde is on the verge of babbling and Regina decides to take pity on her.

"No, no" she reassures immediately "I, there were some personal issues that needed to be taken care of" she pushes out, and it's personal and impersonal enough to pass as a valid explanation.

"Okay" Emma draws out the word, her tone thoughtful "Is everything okay? Anything I can do to help?" she asks and Regina feels a small pang in her chest at the care the blonde is showing towards her, a practically complete stranger.

"Nothing, but thank you" she bites her lower lip and casts her eyes down. It's been a while since someone actually asked about her. Not how her job is coming along, not when she is coming back, not why she isn't picking up the phone. A simple ‘are you okay’ and ‘what can I do to help’, so easy and mundane yet so rare. 

"So, I guess you'll be joining us tomorrow?" Emma asks after a moment of silence, and Regina thinks she can spot a hidden anticipation in her voice.

"I guess I will, yes" she confirms, nodding to the empty apartment.

"Good" Emma replies and Regina smiles at the one word response.

"Indeed" she draws it just a little longer, enjoying Emma's unexplained need to keep the conversation going, even if awkwardly so.

"Yeah"

"Mmm" she adds, a smirk plastered firmly on.

"Okay," Emma concludes and she sounds incredibly uncomfortable "I'm gonna go now"

Regina can't help the small chuckle that bubbles out of her.

"Alright, Emma. Have a good day."

"You too" she replies sheepishly and ends the call.

Already up from her noon nap, immensely satisfied with it being dream-free, she approaches her work desk and is surprised to find some more work waiting for her in the mailbox. She smiles at the screen, fingers itching to busy themselves already. She moves to the kitchen and places the iconic small pot on the stove, only this time she fills it solely with water. While letting it boil, she moves to her newly purchased tea kit.

It’s funny really, Regina would have never guessed making tea could be so... what's the word? Satisfying. It's only after purchasing some rather plushy mixes of herbs and spices; ready-to-use bags as well as self-prepare individuals, that she realized coffee was a ritual more than anything else; It's using her hands for something, spending time on the process, that captivated her.

Now, she finds the same sense of comfort in picking up tiny jars, lifting the lid and smelling their content profoundly; placing the chosen winners of the day to her right, she grabs a special tea bag and a tiny spoon. She places small amounts of the content from each jar on the white, semi-sheer, paper before closing it and shredding the lose string so it becomes a small sack. By the time she's done with her homemade bag, the water is splashing inside the Finjan, ready for use. She places the bag in the water. Holding the strand, she starts jerking her hand up and down and then to the sides, shaking the sack until the water starts to color, molding the substances into one aroma filled greenish liquid.

The steaming water smells divine, and she can feel her body instantly relaxing, the mixture already working its magic. 

Once deciding she will truly put some effort into bettering her sleep, she read about tea and its qualities; finding it a remedy to physical and mental problems at once if used correctly. Verbena Lemon to fight depression and the effects caused by lack of sleep, Mlissa to help fighting mood swings, Rosemary to treat headaches, Babong for a calming effect on the body and the soul and the list goes on.

With time, Regina has learned that some flavors of tea can be more awakening than coffee, and therefore, the importance of matching the perfect brew for the different times in the day.

Keeping the caffeinated substances out of her afternoon tea, she focuses on calming and headache curing herbs to keep her good mood going. She pours the tea into a large mug and adds a mix of sugar and honey, not being able, just yet, to lose the sugar completely; though definitely on her way there.

She takes the mug with her to her work station. Serene already, by the ritual itself, she takes a sip and lets the scorching liquid warm her insides, as it spreads all the way to her toes.

She opens the mail, reads the requirements and downloads the attached files. Then, she gets to work.

  


***

  


Entering into the heated studio, Regina makes a bee line to the locker rooms. She's far earlier than she was the first time, opting on avoiding the heavy socializing that happens before class by being in and out of there before anyone else arrives.

Ready for class in her second pair of leggings, this pair a charcoal gray, and her turtleneck, she leaves the locker rooms and heads towards the studio.

She's so focused on making it there unbothered that she completely misses a familiar blonde who's in the midst of supervising a largely built female in a weightlifting set. 

"Regina" Emma calls and the brunette turns to her right.

"Miss-" Emma's eyebrows are already in her hairline and Regina corrects herself with a smile "Emma"

"Miss Emma" the blonde feigns thoughtful look "I like it" she smiles teasingly and Regina shakes her head.

They stare at each other, not knowing what else to say. When it gets too awkward for Regina to handle she excuses herself, and finishes her original route to the blissfully empty and private room. 

She sits on a pile of mattresses when Emma comes in, minutes later.

"So is it taken care of?" she asks out of the blue, earning a confused look from Regina "The personal matter?" she clarifies and the brunette’s shoulders stiffen only to relax a moment later.

"For now, I guess" she provides and it's not informative to the point of socially rude, but Regina suspects Emma doesn't really care about social protocols.

"I see" Emma mumbles, hands crossed in front of her in a tight grip, making the muscles in her forearm flex. Regina's eyes are immediately drawn to the sight but she averts them quickly.

"Are you going to do the pairings today?" Emma asks and Regina can't for the life of her understand why it is so important for the blonde that she does.

"I don't think so" she shrugs and Emma nods.

"You're pretty flexible" Emma chirps out after a stretched silence, her eyebrow coaxed in a teasing manner.

Regina feels the corners of her lips edging up.

"A former dancer" she shrugs but her eyes shine just a little.

"Really?" Emma perks up "Like a dancer dancer?" she asks and honestly she should since nowadays every girl who has taken one class in her life calls herself a dancer. 

"Oh yeah" she smiles fondly at the memory "five hours a day, six days a week, twelve months a year" she provides, and when her chest puffs a little, she doesn't tame it down.

Emma whistles, impressed.

"Wow" the blonde says, eyes scanning her from head to toe. 

"Well, I guess you could see it in your posture" she says eventually and Regina chuckles and shakes her head "What?" Emma questions amusedly.

"The posture is not from dance, this" she gestures to her straight-as-a-plywood back, even while sitting down "is all my mom"

"Ouch" Emma winces in good spirit, making Regina's smile a little broader.

"Yes" she agrees and they share a small moment of their own.

Then girls start piling in, grabbing Emma's attention but not enough to prevent the brief glances Emma sends her way during the warm up, the stretching and later when she's on the bench while the others pair.

In the locker rooms, the brunette gets to know two ladies by their names, making courtesy plans for coffee. Plans that probably won't take place in the near future, if at all. Still the room suddenly feels a little friendlier; some human warmth in a world that was freezing for a very long time.

  


***

  


She stops watching trashy, meaningless TV and moves to things that actually interest her. She watches cooking shows with a notepad on her lap, scribbling furiously as she attempts to get down recipes for foods that she would like to try. She watches Latin soap operas, or novellas if you will, which might not seem deep or meaningful but to Regina they bring sounds and culture that she has been missing in her house since her dad passed away. She watches National Geographic in an attempt to fulfill the promise her younger self once made to see the world; while not in the traditional way, she still enjoys it, embracing the world she's been petrified of lately, a world that is still scary but is somehow more achievable than it was weeks prior. And it's those small changes, those tiny little shifts in her soul and mind that spark a sense of hope. And that hope is followed by motivation, and that pushes for action, and just like that Regina finds a point again; small and realistic and so very simple but a point nonetheless. Suddenly, day by day doesn't sound like a curse but an inevitable road back to herself. Not her old self, she realizes fairly quickly, since she can never be her old self after such a life altering experience. But maybe a better version, just as beautiful as the old one, only slightly different, she muses to herself. That raises a smile, and the minute the sun goes out of its hiding spot Regina grabs a thick coat, places it over a turtleneck and heads outside for a walk in the park.

  


***

  


"So? How about today?"

Regina sends an unamused glance Emma's way.

"I thought you said you were giving up" she retorts because it has been almost two months of taking classes and Regina still retires to the benches each and every time they get to the pairings. It hasn’t stopped Emma from asking her before and after each class, _Are you doing the pairings today?_ at the start, and _Will you do it next time?_ right when it ends. And it's the same negative answer, yet somehow it doesn’t seem to deter the blonde instructor from inquiring. 

It was about two weeks ago that she lifted her hands in surrender, with her head hanging low, and announced _I give up_. Her face painted with disappointment but her eyes shone with humor, and when Regina chuckled and responded with a dramatic _finally_ , Emma’s expression morphed into an easy smile.

They weren't friends, exactly, but Regina kept arriving earlier to find Emma waiting in her studio. There were one or two occasions in which Emma was busy with a client when Regina had arrived. Though that seemed to stop as soon as the blonde realized Regina intended on making it a regular occurrence.

Sometimes Regina would be almost thirty minutes early, and when that happened she would bring two cups of coffee to share with the grateful blonde. 

Today is one of those days and she watches Emma sip on her coffee, enjoying the blissful warmth and alertness as it washes over her.

"Well, I'm getting back to it" she smiles and Regina huffs halfheartedly, she likes their weird banter, it’s amusing and, all in all, harmless. 

"So?" Emma pulls her back in.

"You know the answer to that" Regina chastises and Emma is smart enough, even after two months of befriending, to not ask why. Maybe, she muses to herself, this is why Emma so easily, and quickly, wriggled her way into Regina’s 'acceptable people' list. The blonde reminds her of Katelyn, with her curious-yet-not-prying show of interest. It's the best kind really, it makes you feel wanted and thought of, but not violated nor interrogated. 

She spent quite a few nights wondering whether it's Emma's character in real life or just a well-placed mask appropriate for her place of work. She figured that she has no way of knowing.

"Okay, so is it like a social thing, you don't want to do pairings with any of the girls because you don't know them?" she inquires and Regina opens her mouth to answer, but Emma beats her to it "Because if so, you can just practice with me, you know... I can be your pairing." She shrugs. Regina sticks with her regular refusal, but that idea doesn't leave her for a while after, nagging from the back of her head. Because honestly, it might not be such a bad idea.

  


***

  


"Katelyn?" 

"Hey honey, thank you for coming" the librarian passes next to her in a blur, a pile of books and papers hiding her entire torso.

"Sure" she mumbles, her brow furrowing. 

Katelyn probably picks on her tone and she's back in no time, pile-free. 

"Lea," she breathes out while stacking another pile, this one significantly smaller "the other girl who helps during the week is sick and I need help with the children."

"Children?" Regina voices out in what could only be described as terror.

"Yes," her companion confirms with a chuckle, amused by the sheer fear that dances in the brunette’s eyes "But don't worry, I will be with the kids, I just need you to keep an eye on the rest of the library, assist, and work the desk in case someone comes in."

Regina nods, feeling her clenched muscles relax one after the other. Two dozens of snotty, attention demanding little humans wasn’t something she could handle, but a rarely approached library she definitely can. Besides, the chance of having someone arrive in the library when it's a freezing mid-week day outside is slim to none.

Still half observing Katelyn in her hurry-like state, Regina slowly takes a seat on a chair that, finally, doesn't tip over. She leans back and listens to the faded voices from the far end of the library. Every once in a while she hears a high pitched call that is immediately shushed, but the majority of the time it’s just quiet mumbling.

She sees little human missiles running around the library, not even sparing her a glance while they try to hide from their teacher, who's right at their heels. 

She can't help her mouth from quirking up at the sight. With a gun pointed to her head she will admit that kids are nothing short of adorable. Countless times she has found herself staring at women interacting with their children, finding herself slightly envious at the minimum effort and natural approach those women seem to have.

She might be like that as well, but she has no way of knowing; growing up as an only child to a mother who's an only child as well, and a father with nine siblings (that lived thousands of miles away) didn’t leave much room for interaction with miniature versions of people.

She distinctively remembers asking for and about a sister to play dress up with. What she doesn't remember is a clear answer, always vague distractions and a moody Cora for hours after bringing this up. It has taken almost seven years and a very ill daddy to tell her that her mother was pregnant once, three years after she gave birth to Regina, and that the fetus didn't make it past the second trimester. 

All in all, Regina hung around people her own age growing up; weather it was with her classmates or fellow dancers. She never got to have a nephew or a cousin to take care of and never babysat. Working during high-school was generally a foreign concept to Regina, one that didn’t go hand in hand with academic excellence, as her mom kept insisting.

How does one communicate with them? What if they fall? Or find her scary?

Questions upon questions kept piling up, leaving her craving the interaction yet keeping her distance.

A soft rustling sound to her right pulls her back to reality and she's surprised to find an adorable blonde girl staring at her. Regina stares back, unsure what she should do or say to her.

The girl tilts her head to the side, her look suspicious, before breaking into a cheerful smile.

"Hey!" she greets, eyes locking with Regina's in a way adults never do "You're pretty"

"Err… Thank you" she says eventually, a little surprised by the directness and the complete abundance of social protocols.

"What's your name?" the girl asks, deeming Regina worthy of conversation, it seems. But Regina doesn't get the chance to reply when the teacher whose name she's not aware of, storms in.

"Penny" she calls, her voice stern yet not unpleasant "come here" she grabs her hand and the girl waves for Regina and then follows her teacher back to the group.

Regina remains still for a minute, processing the situation.

Eventually she settles in her chair with a book in hand, a small smile tugging at her lips as she reads.

  


***

  


She ends up staying in the library much later than expected, and the way home under the setting sun is rushed and uncomfortable. She makes it to the apartment when the last rays of the sun disappear.

Sighing with relief she enters the apartment and goes straight for the tea kit. 

Her phone blares before she has the chance to open the cabinet and she rolls her eyes and approaches her bag instead. 

Her brow furrows when she sees the name of the caller; not a person she would like to talk to at the moment, or ever, for that matter. Also not one whose calls you avoid.

With a headache already threatening to make an appearance she hits the accept button.

"Regina Mills" she answers with the most professional tone she can master. Some people shouldn't be aware of one’s weaknesses, he is definitely one of them.

"Hello, Regina" he acknowledges and her lip curls just a little before she replies with a tamed, well practiced-

"Mr. Goldman"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand, you want to kill me. But you won’t because you love me (hopefully) and because you want to know what happens next. *smirks evilly and struts away*
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it (or if you hate my cliffhangers) :D


	10. All That Glitters Is Not Gold

**Chapter 10-**

**All That Glitters Is Not Gold**

  


_Breathe._

She stares at herself in the mirror, for the first time in months, breaking eye-contact when she leans forward to splash water on her face.

_You’re fine._

Her hands shake as she ruffles through her make-up bag, which she hasn’t used in a very long time. She drops one of her powders, the round case hits the floor with a thud and the bathroom is instantly filled with endless clouds of light brown particles. She coughs when it reaches her face.

"Fuck!” she hisses, and it’s so very unlike her. She does not curse, not even when she’s alone. It does nothing but fuel her anger and earn her a nice reprimand, she has learned early on in her infamous adolescence years.

She moves sharply, walking out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. She grabs the first dish cloth she can find, and the vacuum cleaner and heads back.

Five minutes later and she’s ruffling through the bag again in search of the foundation. The content is crusty at the edges, after months of disuse, and she makes an appalled face before applying the liquid anyway. The mascara is chunky as well, probably long past its expiration date, and the lipstick is fifty shades of wrong. 

She frowns at her reflection. There was a time, not so long ago, that she used to feel comfortable wearing make up, powerful, invincible. There wasn’t a day where she didn’t use cosmetics as a tool to enhance her appearance and boost her confidence.

_Men desire, that’s how they’re wired,_ her mother used to say, _and we, women, need to use it as leverage to get our way._

And that’s what Regina did, she used her appearance to get ahead. Her good looks and charismatic personality helped the brunette grab a hold of everything she desired. That was until one man decided it was his turn to take, her mind points out bitterly.

She used to love make up. Now, it’s constricting, smothering. But she has no choice, she _has_ to. She is not, for the life of her, letting him see her like that. She _has_ to present herself as the strong, under control, not-to-be-manipulated businesswoman Miss Mills; and not as the barely functioning, broken, struggling to keep her head above water, Regina.

With heart beating in perfect sync with her fast walk, she makes her way to the restaurant. It has been quite some time since the brunette has visited these high-end, elite places. Chicago has a whole street dedicated to this population of successful, obnoxiously rich businessmen and women. A street where a pathetic cup of organic, hand ground coffee, that is served in a porcelain designer cup, can cost up to fifteen dollars. A street where you shouldn’t even step in unless wearing Louboutin pumps or Dolce Oxford shoes.

She was never a fan of those ‘rich only’ rituals, but at the same time could see the absurdity of discussing millions of dollars worth of deals over dumplings at the closest Chinese place.

"Miss” an impeccably dressed hostess greets her as she steps into the heated room.

"Hello” she nods “I’m here to meet someone, Lester Goldman” she provides and the woman searches the name in her list.

"There it is” she announces “He has yet to arrive, would you like to wait for him at the bar, or would you prefer the reserved table?”

"The table, please” she replies and follows the hostess to their assigned table.

She orders a glass of water and takes a seat in one of the two offered chairs. While sipping on San Pellegrino, she comes to the conclusion that being the first one here is preferable. She has just enough time to prepare herself and slide an indifferent, expressionless mask on when she hears, rather than sees, Goldman’s walking stick as the man approaches the table. It echos the otherwise rather quiet space and she turns around, a polite smile firmly intact, to greet him.

"Mr. Goldman” she acknowledges and he nods curtly, taking a seat in front of her.

"Lester,” he urges “Please.”

"Lester” she complies and his thin lips form what resembles a smile, but it isn’t one, not really.

"Regina Mills” he announces, almost in relief, eyes raking her form “Where have you been hiding for so long?” he asks, his tone light, but his inquisitive stare isn’t lost on her.

"Here” she provides shortly and her companion laughs. 

"Of course” he shakes his head and she has to actively stop herself from dropping the polite smile in favor of an eye-roll. “Shall we order?” he asks and signals the waitress without waiting for her response. She bites her tongue and responds with-

"Sure”

  


***

  


"Imagine my surprise” he says, his fork dangling in the air as his hands moves animatedly “when I come to your office to hear an update about the Oil drillers case to find your desk empty and you gone.”

The chuckle he adds at the end to soften the insinuation isn’t working and Regina clears her throat uncomfortably.

"I was given an okay to take some time off” she says calmly, her voice sturdy but her hands shake slightly when she tries to stick the fork in a very specific piece of lettuce.

"Oh no, I know. I was just surprised that’s all.”

She nods, not knowing what else to do.

He stares at her long and hard before saying “I guess I am just wondering when I’m going to have my best lawyer back.”

She closes her eyes for a brief second.

"They said I could take as much time as I need.” she states, her voice dry, she’s long past playing polite and Lester, it seems, is nearing his breaking point as well.

"I see” he replies and she can sense his rigid state. He does not like it, that, she knows for sure. She can’t really blame him for feeling out of the loop. He is, after all, oblivious to why Leonard Blanchard signed a paid leave of absence for a lawyer under his jurisdiction without consulting him. She is, in fact, surprised he has made it so long before breaking that weird charade they were presenting, and actively search her.

"And when does that end,” he asks casually after minutes of silent eating “that _paid_ vacation of yours?” his patience is coming to an end, it seems, when the last words are gritted out.

"It is not a vacation” she says with her chin up “I’m doing some work from here.”

"Not the kind of work I want you to do” he determines impatiently.

She says nothing in return as she stares at him defiantly. The action makes him seethe.

"You need to come back” he says, voice low and on the verge of threatening.

She orders the nausea away just enough to respond with:

"I will come back when I deem it right.”

"I am your boss” he leans forward, eyes ablaze.

"You are one of my bosses” she retorts, and it seems to be the wrong reply.

He’s in her personal space, his disgusting warm breath hitting her face in puffs when he says:

"Don’t test me” he warns and she can’t stop herself from flinching, visible enough for him to notice, earning her a satisfied smirk from his end.

She surprises both of them when she replies calmly and confidently “Don’t push me”

They're both trying to stare the other down, and eventually it’s Regina who leans back, her face impassive as she grabs her bag and rises from her seat.

"This conversation is over” she announces to a surprised, and maybe even slightly impressed, Goldman.

"I will fire you” he calls after her and she throws a _please do_ and heads out.

  


***

  


Realization of what she had just done dawns on her the minute she enters her apartment.

"God” she whispers to the empty room, utterly surprised by her behavior “What did I just do?”

And then she lets out a laugh, the sound bouncing on the otherwise silent walls, as relief washes over her. She shakes her head in disbelief.

Lester is a man of his word, there’s no doubt about that. But at the same time, he _knows_ how valuable she is to the firm. Her thrive, sharpness, and rare combination of skills made Regina his shining star when she arrived at the company. He had his eyes on her from the minute she was assigned her first case, taking her under his wing, molding her into the legendary shark he was known to be. Regina was, _is_ , his protegee, and therefore she highly doubts he would fire her out of anger or frustration.

Still, job or no job, she can feel the ever taut muscles in her back and neck soften as a tingle rushes through her veins and settles in her chest. Her body feels light, and her head somewhat foggy, and it takes her a couple of moments to point a finger on what it is that she’s feeling. Free.

  


***

  


There are no phone calls nor mails from Chicago the following days, other than additional assignments that are handed out to her. The brunette is still not sure what to make of it, or what it actually means, but finds that she doesn’t really care. The effects of the half stupid half brave act she had performed the previous week are still present. With some sense of pride and accomplishment lingering in her system, Regina heads to the studio with a very specific goal in mind. 

"Hi” she greets softly when she approaches the blonde instructor. Emma isn’t doing much at the moment, merely frowning at her phone. She looks up, face brightening the minute her gaze lands on Regina’s hands.

"Hey” she greets in return, her focus solely on the cup and Regina fights the urge to roll her eyes.

"I see you’re really excited to see me” she states in a sarcastic tone, her lips quirked up just enough for it to pass as a tease and nothing more. “or shall I say this” she hands out a cup of coffee and the blonde takes it eagerly.

"Yeah,” she laughs a little uncomfortably, but overall at ease “Sorry about that, my head’s not here today.” 

Regina watches her sip the coffee she has mastered by now. It amuses her to no end whenever she approaches the counter and utters very specific instructions on how to make Emma’s cup of coffee.

When her companion doesn’t add on that statement, the brunette suggests gently “If you want to talk about it...” she trails off, not sure herself where this sentence is heading. Luckily, the blonde gets her line of thought pretty quickly and shakes her head.

"No, but thank you” she offers a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s not a look Regina is used to seeing on Emma, usually the ever happy instructor, friendly and easy going. The smiling lines that grace her face are ironed out as Emma’s thin pink lips take a sharp turn downwards.

Something tugs in Regina’s chest upon seeing that, and before she can register what she’s saying, before she can even make up her mind whether she wants to do it or not, she finds herself saying “I think I’m ready”

The minute the words leave her mouth she clears her throat uncomfortably, fighting the urge to shift her weight from one foot to the other as she waits. Her gaze has wandered all over the room when Emma finally speaks up “Is it what I think it is?” she asks, her voice laced with mild anticipation mixed with incredulity.

"It is” she confirms, finally looking at Emma, and finding the lightening of her expression way too uplifting for someone who’s merely her instructor. Regardless, she feels the corners of her lips edging up to match Emma’s smile.

"What made you change your mind?” the blonde asks, her focus on Regina. She looks significantly less troubled than she was moments ago and Regina deems her small act of courage worthy just for that reason alone.

"Let’s just say” she starts, amusement lacing her tone when a picture of an angry Goldman pops in her mind “I gave someone a piece of my mind, someone who definitely deserved it.” she finishes with her chin a little higher and demeanor a little prouder.

Emma chuckles and nods in sympathy.

"Ugh, sounds satisfying” she says, earning a hum of approval from Regina.

"Absolutely” she agrees wholeheartedly.

A few moments of silence pass before Regina speaks up.

"I was thinking,” she starts, eyes zeroing on the floor “Maybe we should-”

"Practice alone first?” Emma fills in and Regina looks up, surprised at the blonde’s correct deduction.

"How did you know?” she frowns and Emma chuckles.

"It’s fairly obvious that for some reason you don’t like physical contact, it only seems right to try it at private first, at your own pace, without two dozen sets of eyes watching you while you go at it.” she shrugs and smiles encouragingly at her.

Regina, in turn, looks at Emma, mouth slightly agape, as she tries to process her words. Feeling her cheeks warm up under the blonde’s gaze, she clears her throat and nods curtly.

"Very well, then” she says and Emma snorts. Upon Regina’s confused look she says-

"No need to get all Downton Abbey, it’s just me”

That sentence earns Emma an unladylike like snort from Regina’s end.

"What?” she questions when the brunette says nothing more.

"You remind me of a friend of mine” she says warmly when it dawns on her, that yes, she does consider Katelyn as a friend.

"Really?” Emma asks “Who?”

"Katelyn, she’s about seventy”

"Hey!” Emma protests but soon joins Regina in a short, carefree chuckle.

  


***

  


"What did you do?” is the first thing Kathryn says when Regina answers her call.

"What do you mean?” she asks, confused, as she peers over the stove to watch the shimmering tomato sauce in the pot. She grabs the wooden spoon and stirs it as she waits for her friend’s reply.

"It’s a fucking World War Three in here”

"In the office?” she frowns, jumping when a splash of boiling water from the pot, where the pasta is currently cooking, hits the stove, eliciting a loud _hiss._

"No, in my house.” Kathryn sasses “Yes, in the office. Goldman just got back and tables are being turned and thrown as we speak.”

"What happened?”

"I thought you might know, he just came back from New York, I don’t know of anything in the city that can make him _this_ unsettled _._ ” she finishes and Regina lets out an unamused laugh.

"Probably has to do with our lunch date” she responds in a tone that is borderline a snarl.

"You met with Goldman?” Kathryn inquires incredulously, her pitch significantly higher, and Regina has to distance the phone from her ear to avoid permanent damage.

"I did” she confirms, eyes rolling at her friends tendency for dramatics.

"What did he want?”

"What else could he want? Me, back” she states dryly and that sentence is enough to quiet Kathryn for a good moment.

"What did you say?” the blonde asks, with a significantly softer tone.

"That I’m not coming back at the moment. He didn’t like that answer.”

"I bet he didn’t.”

The line goes quiet as both of them slip into their own heads for a moment.

"So why is he angry with Blanchard then?” Kathryn asks eventually, confused.

"He’s angry because Leonard is backing me up.”

"Why?” 

That single word is enough for Regina’s heart to jump to her throat. 

“Regina?” The blonde asks “Why is he backing you up?”

She can feel the crippling panic spreading to her limbs and she sits on one of the island stools. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she lets out a shaky sigh that sounds too much like a sob. 

“Regina?” worry colors her best friend’s voice as she tries again. But Regina can’t bring herself to answer, breathing seems almost impossible when each and every inhale and exhale scrape her throat on their way in and out. 

“Are you alright? Breathe.” she instructs when Regina’s panting reach her ears.

“I don’t-” she croaks, halting when she fails to find words to complete that sentence.

“That’s okay, take your time.” Kathryn soothes, as much as possible considering her physical absence at the moment. Still, Regina holds on to that small and fragile anchor as she tries to pull herself out of the panic attack she is experiencing. She’s not crying, oh no, that state is far more progressive and destructive for simple tears to be the solution, to be its undoing. The brunette finds herself craving for some sort of release, one that simply doesn’t show up. Her hand flies to her chest, gripping the fabric right on top of her heart, feeling it struggling against her ribcage in an obnoxiously fast pace. She wishes for something to happen, for her to faint, to throw up, to break down in tears. It feels too much like the painful moment before the crash, that fleeting terrible arch right before all the pressure resolves, only this time she can’t bring herself to topple over the edge.

"I’m here for you, talk to me” Kathryn’s distant voice pierces her bubble, blissfully pushing her over the line. She breaks into a hysterical cry, all while Kathryn calls her name again and again, concern etched in her pleas for the Regina to _talk_ to her.

She’s on the verge of uttering those damn words, on the verge of finally letting someone in, allowing someone to carry that weight with her. But she can’t seem to do it. Her mouth opens and closes, again and again, and nothing but sobs comes out. 

In that moment, the forever cold, emotionless Regina Mills, the one who runs from human affection like one would run from fire, craves a hug; A bone-crushing, soul-mending hug.

_It’s too much. Too much for her to deal with alone, and god, she’s so alone._

Her eyes close when the images flood her brain; her mother encouraging her to talk to the influential man, her surprise at his complete devoted attention to her, confusion at the warm show of affection, initial reluctance ending with one drink after the other as he encouraged her to _loosen up_ ; then, nothing but his warm breath on her neck while his hands conquered; grabbing, groping, _taking._

She doesn’t remember much in details, accuracy and facts fading in the face of the emotions; those, unfortunately, she remembers awfully well.

And suddenly, telling someone doesn’t seem as terrible anymore, paling in comparison to carrying it alone. So, before she can stop herself and lock it in for good, she manages a shallow breath, just enough to voice out-

"He did it”

Those three usually ordinary words suck all the air out of her lungs. She hears a gasp from the other end of the line and finds herself repeating, with a shaking voice

"He did this to me”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys.


	11. A Smidgen Of Cinnamon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> So first, I wanted to thank all of you for your amazing support! There are no words to describe how happy it makes me seeing the story I put so much into being so well received. Also, a huge thanks to all the guest comments that, unfortunately, I can’t respond to, but I definitely read and am very touched by. Please keep those coming :)
> 
> Also, I’m moving to NYC in a couple of weeks. Why am I telling you this? Well, A) Since I’m so freaking excited! It has been my dream since I was a little girl. B) I will do my best to keep to my updating schedule, but I might miss a few deadlines while on the move and you definitely deserve an explanation in case it does happen. C) If you’re from NYC / know awesome people in their 20s who would like to befriend a complete stranger who’s not a serial killer (I haven’t killed enough to qualify just yet but I’m working on it ;P), please let me know. I don’t know a single person in the city, it would be nice to be able to change that before I move there...

 

**Chapter 11-**

**A smidgen of cinnamon**

  


She’s on the couch, staring aimlessly at the wall in front of her, when someone knocks on her front door. She throws off the blanket that was previously wrapped around her body and approaches the door.

She opens it and is immediately engulfed in a tight hug, like the one she craved two days prior in the middle of her breakdown. She melts into the embrace and it feels so goddamn _good_ to let someone else hold her for a change. 

She lets out a shaky breath when a small, yet so very comforting hand starts rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"Oh, honey” Kathryn sighs and her hands tighten around Regina’s slim form.

"God,” she says when the brunette says nothing in return “you need to eat more” she lectures and Regina can’t help the watery laugh that bubbles out at that; ten shades of pathetic, but relieving nonetheless.

When they finally part, Regina can’t seem to lift her gaze off the floor, still embarrassed by the situation.

"Can I offer you a drink?” she asks with a soft, barely there voice.

"Pff” her friend huffs, managing to draw Regina’s eyes “Like hell you’ll play the nice hostess on me right now” she chastises “Go sit on the couch” she orders “What do you want to drink?” she asks in a tone that doesn’t leave room for arguing.

  


***

  


"You should have seen Goldman’s face when I told him I was coming to New York for a couple of days” Kathryn says, amusement evident in her voice “He morphed with the white wall behind him” she chuckles “probably thought you’re brain washing me.”

The brunette smiles at her, then turns to look at the green surrounding them. The cold and still too wintry weather hasn’t deterred Kathryn from forcing Regina out of the house for the sake of a walk in park. She insisted it would do wonders to her mood and she was right, though Regina would be caught dead before admitting it out loud.

"So...” Kathryn drawls after a few moments of simply absorbing the chilly air and few rays of sunshine available on this typical winter day. “Now that I’m here for a couple of days, meetings-free if I may” she lifts a finger and winks at the brunette “Do I get to see the second life you’ve practically built here for yourself?”

"What do you want to see?” she asks, trying to recall how much she shared on their frequent phone calls.

"The library for a start, but I would also love to meet Dr. Archibald and see the studio you train in.”

For some reason, it’s Kathryn’s third mention that makes Regina blush.

"You know I can barely do a thing in martial arts right?” she says, hoping her friend would pass on that one. But who is she kidding? She is not surprised in the slightest when Kathryn insists on it.

"I’ll have to ask Emma first” she relents after a minute or so of her friend’s rambling on why she still wants to go; When Kathryn wants something, there’s no refusing her, so why even bother?

"Emma?” Kathryn scrunches her nose in that way Regina likes so much and turns to look at her “Who’s Emma?”

"Oh” she clears her throat “She’s the instructor.”

"I see...” she says as she narrows her eyes while searching for god knows what in Regina’s facial features.

  


***

  


"Remind me again why we are here?” Kathryn asks when they enter a Starbucks branch.

"I usually have coffee with Emma before class” she says casually, completely missing the way Kathryn’s eyebrows shoot up at that.

"Really?” she asks and Regina shrugs and steps forward when the person in front of them finishes making his order.

"Hi” she greets the barista “I would like two large black coffees, dark roasted, no cream or sugar, and one large Nitro cold brew with vanilla sweet cream and a smidgen of cinnamon” she finishes with a curt nod and hands him the credit card.

"Wow” Kathryn whistles when they approach the bar to wait for their order to be made “I didn’t know you like your coffee so...” she trails off, frowning as she searches for the right word “intricate”

"I’m sorry?” Regina asks, confused, before realization colors her expression “Oh no, that coffee is for Emma” she shakes her head, wearing a small smile. “Don’t ask me why she drinks her coffee like that, but that’s how she likes it.” she shrugs and looks at the barista currently making their order while Kathryn fails to hide her amused smirk.

"And you remember” she says, more of determines.

"What?”

"Emma’s intricate coffee,” the blonde clarifies “You remember exactly how she likes it...”

"Well, yes, after so many times…” she reasons and Kathryn places a hand on her mouth to stop herself from laughing. “Is everything alright?” Regina asks upon seeing that action and Kathryn nods.

"Yes, I was just...” a small snort escapes and she quickly switches to a serious expression “You and Emma, are you friends?” she asks as casually as she can master.

" _Regina_ ” the barista calls and they stop the conversation in favor of grabbing their order. They go out on the street and Regina leads the way to the studio, their previous conversation neglected.

  


***

  


"Remember” Regina leans in Kathryn’s direction and lowers her voice just enough for her friend to hear “You say hi, stick around for a couple of minutes and then ‘go run some errands’” she instructs with her serious demeanor plastered firmly on. This is uncomfortable enough even for a short period of time, and would get definitely worse the longer her friend stays. She loves Kathryn with all her heart, she does, but there’s no predicting this woman’s actions.

As they get closer to the studio, dread spreads in Regina’s chest. Introducing Kathryn to Emma feels weird, wrong even; like mixing two unrelated aspects of life with one another, showing your baby pictures to coworkers, or having sex talks with your parents. She is ashamed to admit it, even to herself, but she wants that part of her life to remain hers, her secret life. A very unhealthy perception but one she can’t seem to shake away.

She opens the door and holds it for Kathryn. Her friend mumbles a distracted _thanks_ as she scans the area, intrigued.

"This way” she gestures to the locker rooms, snapping her fingers when she notices her friend’s current focus “you’re married” she hisses halfheartedly and Kathryn pouts and reluctantly averts her gaze from the guy.

"I still have eyes, though” she mumbles as she follows Regina to the small studio where Emma usually waits for her.

"Emma” Regina calls and smiles softly as she hands the instructor her cup of coffee.

"Hey” Emma greets and her neutral expression breaks into a large beam.

Kathryn eyes the pair like a hawk, noting the way each woman scans the other almost absentmindedly.

"This is my friend, Kathryn” Regina turns to Kathryn and the latter offers her hand.

"Nice to meet you” Kathryn shakes Emma’s hand, seizing the woman while she’s at it. Emma is slightly taller than her, skinny, but there is no way of missing the muscles that ripple as the instructor moves their joined hands in a firm shake.

"Nice to meet you too, I’m Emma” she smiles broadly, stealing a glance at Regina “Are you bringing me new clients now?” she asks cheekily “If so, you should know I don’t pay commissions, can’t afford it”

"No” Regina chuckles and shakes her head “Kathryn is a good friend from Chicago, she’s visiting”

"Oh, are you from Chicago?” the instructor frowns upon Regina’s nod “How did I not know that?”

"It never came up” the brunette shrugs “Anyway, Kathryn is only here for a couple of minutes” she says, sending a deadly look Kathryn’s way when the latter opens her mouth to object “She has some errands to run”

"I do” Kathryn plays along despite her obvious disappointment at the prospect of leaving. There is something happening between Regina and that instructor, and Kathryn hates being robbed of the opportunity to find out what it is.

"Shame” Emma says, earning Kathryn’s nod.

"Absolutely” Kathryn agrees, sending a meaningful look Regina’s way. But her friend doesn’t break, and so Kathryn finds herself being forced to leave minutes after the class has started.

  


***

  


"Regina, wait” Emma calls and she halts.

"Yes?” she asks, watching Emma see the last woman in the room out and then turn to look at her.

"About our private, err, session...” she trails off, bouncing on the heels of her feet as she looks at Regina expectantly.

Regina’s lips quirk up at Emma’s obvious restlessness. _Like a little child_ , she thinks fondly.

"What about it?” she inquires, watching Emma’s hands dig into her pockets.

"I was wondering, when do you want to do it?”

"My schedule is pretty flexible, how about we decide based on when it’s most comfortable for you?” the brunette offers and watches Emma’s distant gaze as the blonde checks the imaginary calendar in her head.

"I can do Friday, late noon” Emma says after a minute of silence “My last class starts at 3 pm, so around 4:30?”

"Sounds good.”

  


***

  


"You know we’re going to have to talk about it eventually” Kathryn throws the sentence to the silent apartment. Regina sighs, but moves to turn the TV off and looks at her friend.

"Okay” she says, surprising even herself, and watches two blonde eyebrows rise “let’s talk about it.”

"Really?” the blonde asks, caught of guard by the immediate cooperation the brunette allows, especially with such little resistance.

"You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

"Of course not”

"So why fight it, let’s get it over with” Regina determines and rises from the draped position she was just in into a sitting position. On the other side of the couch, Kathryn does the same.

"Okay” Kathryn says, her expression thoughtful “Do you want some Scotch first?” she asks seriously, earning a small chuckle from her companion.

"I think I’m good,” the brunette says calmly and elaborates upon Kathryn’s inquisitive stare “I’m going to have to learn how to talk about it and deal with it without drinking myself to oblivion.”

"Your call” the blonde nods and grabs a thin comforter from the nearby love-seat, she drapes it over her form and hugs her knees to her chest in a childish, utterly uncharacteristic manner. The action makes Regina smile. This is her friend’s favorite sitting position, one that is never showcased unless the blonde feels incredibly close and comfortable with the people she’s around. 

“When did it happen?” she asks and Regina’s lightness floats away, making room to heavy acceptance.

"On that ‘end of the year’ party. You weren’t there.” she adds quickly.

"Where was I?”

"I think you and Fred had a weekend getaway or something.”

"Oh, that’s right” Kathryn recalls.

They slip into an awkward silence that is soon broken by Kathryn’s next question “How the hell did it happen?”

The brunette swallows thickly “I don’t really know. I drank, he came to talk to me, I drank some more and then-” she halts, rubbing a hand on her face “I don’t remember what happened step by step.” she sighs and sinks into the couch “We were talking and then we weren’t anymore. Then, it was over, and I felt terrible. Violated.” she whispers the last word and tries her hardest to fight the sudden moisture in her eyes.

Kathryn stares down at her own hands. When she looks up, her blue eyes well with tears as well. “And what did you do afterwards?” 

"What do you mean?”

"Did you talk to anyone? Got tested?”

"I-” Regina almost says it but stops herself at the last minute “No.”

"To anyone?”

Regina shakes her head when voicing it out proves to be too much. She can’t tell Kathryn the whole story, she realizes sadly, she just can’t. Not when she’s not sure what exactly happened. Everything is still so blurry regarding that night, even thinking those thoughts makes her feel guilty, guilty enough to omit one crucial part of the story, and no less terrible in her eyes than the act itself.

"So you just left?” Kathryn promotes, and Regina is pretty sure she can detect some anger and disappointment loaded in that question.

"Not immediately”

"Really?” her friend frowns, the wheels in her head turning as she tries to recall that particular time.

"Really.” Regina confirms.

"I don’t remember seeing you after that party” she points out and Regina hums sadly.

"You didn’t, I pretty much locked myself in my apartment for the following couple of weeks. I thought it would get better, it didn’t, and so I felt like I had to get away.”

"So you came here and started seeing Archie.” Kathryn fills in.

"Not right away.”

"I see. And you’re fine now?”

"I’m better” Regina corrects “I don’t think I’ll ever be fine in the complete sense of the word again.”

They slip into silence in which Regina’s gaze jumps all over her apartment whereas Kathryn’s gaze never wavers from her best friend’s face.

"And who’s Robin?” she pipes up and Regina finally looks at her, surprised.

"How do you know Robin?” the brunette swallows thickly, even more uncomfortable.

"He came to your office several times.” the blonde provides nonchalantly.

"And you didn’t think of maybe, I don’t know, telling me?” Regina asks, anger seeping to her tone.

"I would, if _someone_ ” Kathryn emphasizes the word “bothered answering her phone” she counters, sounding just as angry. They stare at each other until Regina breaks.

"Fair enough.” the brunette admits and those two words work like magic, and soon the tension in the air slips away and makes room to exhaustion.

"Who is he?” she asks again, not letting Regina get away with it.

"I dated him”

"What?” Kathryn’s eyes go round “How did I not know about him?”

"It was fairly casual, and I realized pretty early on that it wasn’t for me.”

"So you broke it off?”

"Sort of.”

"Elaborate please, I’m not a mind reader.” the blonde pushes, making Regina smile for a fleeting second.

"We were on a break when that happened. Then, with my mind somewhere else, I wasn’t really thinking about him. I thought I made myself clear when I texted him right before moving here, but he seems to have missed the hint since apparently he still comes to my office and tries to reach me on the phone.”

"So what are you going to do?”

"Nothing” she shrugs “Hopefully, it will dawn on him soon and he will leave me alone.”

"Don’t you want to give it another chance?” Kathryn asks gently, eyeing her friend’s disinterested stance when talking about him.

"The way things are looking right now, I don’t think I’ll ever want to even consider men again.”

  


***

  


"I’ll be back” determined blue eyes bore into brown ones.

"Okay” she nods.

"I mean it.” Kathryn stresses, earning an eye-roll from her friend.

"I know you do”

"Talk to him” the blonde orders, lowering her tone to a whisper “I wanted to know because I’m your friend and I want see you happy. He, however” her gaze flees towards the closed door and then back to her “Can actually help you. Talk to him. Get better.”

Chewing her lower lip, Regina nods hesitantly. That seems to be enough for Kathryn, who nods curtly and glances at her watch.

"Good. Now, I have to go, or else I’ll miss my flight. I love you.” she says and pulls Regina in for a hug before the latter has the chance to talk her out of public displays of affection.

"I love you too.” she whispers in the blonde’s ear “Go catch your flight.” she pushes Kathryn away and towards the elevator.

"Talk to him.” Kathryn presses one last time and enters the elevator.

It’s a few minutes later that Regina finally enters Archie’s room for her weekly appointment and does just that.


	12. The Upper Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this chapter is quite eventful and long, and also a really important part of this story. I hope I did it justice. It wasn’t an easy one to write, so if you did enjoy it and thought I managed to nail Emma and Regina’s fragile dynamic, then please let me know in the comments below :)

 

**Chapter 12-**

**The Upper Hand**

 

The relatively calm state of mind Regina was in that morning has been slowly seeping away. Her quick visit to the library, an attempt to ease away some of the nerves that had settled in her stomach the closer the hand in her watch edged towards the 4:00 pm mark, had failed.

Burying herself in an interesting looking book turns out to be futile when Regina’s mind keeps jumping back to her scheduled plans for the afternoon. Even Katelyn’s teasings go unanswered, leaving the old librarian as visibly grumpy as Regina feels inside.

"You’re no fun today” the gray-haired lady determines with a childish pout.

"You’re never fun” Regina stabs back, drawing a chuckle from the older woman.

"There you are” she shakes her head amusedly “Where did you go?” she asks and takes a sit on the table in front of Regina.

"I’m a little nervous” the brunette sighs, finding herself unable to lie to the somewhat motherly figure that is currently staring down at her from her elevated ‘seat’.

"No shit, Sherlock” she teases, but her tone turns attentive seconds later when she inquires gently “What is it?”

"I need to do something that is a little out of my comfort zone” she admits quietly. _That’s one way of putting it._

A warm hand squeezes her forearm reassuringly.

"You’ll be alright, I believe in you” she winks at Regina and pats her back lightly when she moves to retrieve her hand. “Half of the things we do in life aren’t comfortable. Most of those things we seem to fear so much turn out to be the greatest decisions we’ve ever made.”

Sounding so self-assured, Regina finds herself trusting the old lady. _All those years must account to something,_ she points out to herself _, it might as well be wisdom._

  


***

  


She pushes the entrance door open, noting that the usually fairly empty hall is even emptier. It’s practically deserted, and Regina looks around her in an attempt to find some clue to where Emma might be ‘hiding’.

The lights of the small studio are off, eliminating that possibility; and so, the brunette decides to approach the closed door to the office she sat in when she first arrived to this place. 

"Come in” is heard from inside as a response to her gentle knocks and she complies.

"Hello” she greets the blonde sitting near the table.

"Oh, hey!” Emma looks up from her screen, a little surprised “Is it 4:30 already?” she asks herself more than Regina and rechecks the watch on the wall “Wow.” she says and rises from her seat. “How are you?” she asks casually as she approaches the silent brunette.

"I’m good, thank you. How are you?” she returns quickly as she follows Emma to the small studio.

"I’m good too.” Emma replies, eyeing Regina thoughtfully. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Regina nods, perhaps a little too quickly for Emma’s liking, prompting her to stop her walk.

"Regina...” she promotes, trying to catch Regina’s avoiding gaze. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable with it.” she stresses when Regina fails to come with a reply.

"Okay” she whispers and finally looks up. Emma nods encouragingly at her.

"I mean it,” she states with conviction “nothing you feel uncomfortable with” she promises, reminding Regina of a different blonde at that moment.

"Okay” she says again, this time with a little more confidence.

"Okay” Emma repeats and crosses the last few steps to the small studio.

  


***

  


"Why don’t you start?” Emma suggests once they’re both down to nothing but a shirt –a turtleneck in Regina’s case–, leggings and socks.

"Me?” she asks, probably looking pretty scared since Emma sends an assuring look her way.

"Yes, you. You do the first step.” she urges and gestures towards herself “Try and knock me down.”

"I-” Regina trails off, lightly shaking her head.

"Come on” Emma encourages, spreading her legs so that they’re in parallel lines with her shoulders “I don’t bite.” she teases with a smile “Unless they ask me to.” she winks, drawing a small chuckle out of Regina. That little joke seems to loosen her up a little and she nods curtly, taking a small step forward.

"Are you sure?” she asks again, as if Emma would suddenly change her mind.

"I’m sure” the blonde forgoes a tease and answers seriously “I want you to feel as much in control as possible at first, if you come to me, you have the upper hand.” she reasons, beckoning Regina closer with a hand motion.

"What do I do?” Regina asks again, now a couple steps closer to Emma.

"Whatever it is that you want. Try to knock me down, grab my hand, kick me, whatever comes to mind.” she says, slightly bending her knees, a movement that would go unnoticed hadn’t Regina been watching her closely.

"What if I hurt you?” she asks and Emma’s snort is loud and clear.

"Ugh,” she lets out an amused, rolling chuckle “I’d like to see you try.” she smiles cheekily, eyes shining with challenge and Regina, who couldn’t -even if she wanted to- step away from a challenge, finds herself lifting an eyebrow while closing the remaining distance with a very clear goal in mind: seeing Emma Swan on her back. Whether Emma has actually meant it or it was a trick to get her to ‘strike’, it proves successful when Regina moves to make contact.

At first it’s just her hand, grabbing a toned bicep and pulling in an attempt to move the blonde. When nothing happens but a snicker from the instructor, Regina goes with a trick she has seen countless times on TV. She drapes her right leg in front of Emma’s, feeling a little bolder, her hand moves from the blonde’s forearm to drape over her shoulders as she tries to push the blonde forward and get her to topple over. That position is much harder for Emma to just ignore and Regina spots her hands twitching, fighting the now programmed reaction to free herself from the grip. She doesn’t act on it though, instead, it’s her slightly strained voice, extremely close to the brunette's ear, asking-

"Can I touch you?”

Regina basks in the warmth of the gesture just for a moment and then nods. She doesn’t get the chance to mumble a _yes_ when she feels two strong hands wrapping around her and in a blink of an eyes she’s lowered to the ground. The movement, which has started as quick and sharp, slows as her back inches towards the mattress, and her landing is nothing more than a soft thud and a small _whoosh_ as the air is chased out of her lungs, more out of surprise than the impact itself.

A little disoriented, she looks up and locks eyes with a smiling Emma, who still has her hands on Regina’s arms.

"You really hurt me there lady, watch it!” she teases, obviously kidding since Regina’s attempts seem to have gone over her head.

"Shut up” Regina blurts out but she’s smiling as she accepts Emma’s hand and rises from the mattress.

"Wanna try that again? Or would you like to move on to actual techniques?” Emma inquires, some mockery still dancing in her eyes, but Regina finds that she doesn’t mind in the slightest.

"Let’s move to techniques” she says as she brushes the wrinkles in her shirt. Looking up, she meets Emma’s gaze and the blonde chuckles.

"What are you straightening your shirt for? I’m going to wrinkle it again in a second.”

"Someone’s sure of themselves” Regina says sarcastically, but the barely noticeable upward turn of her lips never quite goes away.

  


***

  


They work mainly on posture, since Regina constantly shifts her legs and hands to the wrong positions. Straight and proper isn’t the way to go when you try to floor someone, she’s told again and again by Emma as the blonde walks around her in circles and corrects the same mistakes over and over again.

"Slouch a little” Emma instructs for the umpteenth time. She somehow manages to stay calm and patient, despite the obvious frustration Regina’s inexperience probably causes her.

"Not like that” she says and moves behind Regina “you can’t have your back straight like that, you’re too tight, you can hurt yourself” Emma says, her breath awfully close to Regina’s ear. She tries to obey, but somehow manages to get even _that_ wrong. “That’s not good, that position prevents you from performing power-requiring moves, you’re blocking the natural flow of the movement.” she explains and Regina’s eyes bulge a little when she feels a hand on the small of her back. “You keep your lower back centered and tight, and as you go up, you shift your posture forward, like that” she says as she moves her hand over Regina’s spine on her ascend all the way to her shoulders, pressing forward where Regina is too stiff and upright. Then her hands branch to her shoulders, thumbs pressing into her blades as her fingers wrap around her arms and curve them inwards.

"See?” Emma asks nonchalantly, oblivious to Regina’s slightly flushed face. 

Even before the incident the brunette wasn’t much of a toucher, and this proximity, especially after all of this time without any human contact, sends jolts of tingles down Regina’s spine that reach all the way to the tips of her toes.

"Yes” she whispers, a little breathily, and sighs when Emma lets go.

"Look at the difference” the blonde says and demonstrates a series of movements, one with her back straight, and one with her back slouched. Emma makes it look so easy and fluid as she moves her limbs and body gracefully yet sharply at the same time.

"Well, I can’t do that” Regina mumbles distractedly as she watches the muscles in Emma’s upper arms spasm, defined arms changing their outlines as the blonde moves them from one position to the other, working different muscles and flexing them on display.

Emma chuckles “You can’t just yet,” she counters “you will, I’m sure you will. You’re not remotely as lanky and awkward with your body as some of the students I’ve had over the years and they all managed to learn a thing or two.” she smiles reassuringly and Regina swallows past the lump that has formed their since they started their ‘class’ and nods.

  


***

  


"How much do I owe you?” Regina asks when they step out of the studio.

"Pfff” Emma scoffs “you’re not paying me a dime.” she shakes her head when Regina turns to look at her.

"Why not?”

"Because I said so”

"I can’t just go away without compensating you for your time” she reasons, frowning. _Why won’t Emma take her money?_ This was a private lesson by anyone’s definition.

"Yes you can, here, it’s happening right now” Emma determines as she takes a sharp left turn to the staff rooms, Regina in tow.

"Emma, this is your livelihood, let me pay you.” she urges, eyes following Emma as the blonde puts on layer after layer of winter clothes.

"No” she says curtly as she steps into tall winter-boots.

"Emma...” she sighs, shaking her head “It makes me uncomfortable” she blurts out eventually. She can’t just walk away without paying Emma for her kindness and willingness to help. The woman didn’t just go out of her way to help Regina get the spot on the class she wanted, she then went the extra mile and offered private lessons, and now she won’t let Regina pay her for them?

Finally dressed in her complete winter attire, which is a little immoderate considering the fairly nice weather outside, Emma stands tall and looks Regina in the eye “Well, it will make me uncomfortable to take money from you.” she shrugs “so where does that leave us?”

Regina sighs and two fingers moves to pinch the bridge of her nose as she tries to come up with a solution.

"Okay...” she drawls after a stretched silence “How about I take you out to eat?” she asks and checks the time. It’s a little early for dinner but Emma has had classes all day, so maybe… “Are you hungry?”

"Always” Emma smiles broadly.

"Great,” she clasps her hands. This seems like a good compromise. “It’s settled then.”

  


***

  


The implication of her actions hits her the minute they take a seat in a decorated, yet homey Italian restaurant. She’s having dinner with Emma Swan. 

_What is she going to talk about for an hour?_

She tries to reassure herself that she will be fine. They have done it over coffee countless times before, so what if the scenery is a little different and they will have more time to talk, all in all it’s the same thing. Right?

"Hello, I’m Jordan and I will be your waitress tonight” the petite-looking young woman smiles politely at them, then moves to place two menus on the table. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Yeah, do you have iced-tea?” her companion asks with a hopeful look that soon makes room to a large beam when Jordan nods.

"We do, but we only have the peach-flavored one left.” she provides and winces apologetically at the end.

"That’s cool, I’ll have that.”

When Emma turns to look at her, Regina turns to their waitress “I’ll have some water please.”

"Boring” Emma protests, earning an arched eyebrow from the brunette. “Choose something else.” she urges and Regina finds herself relenting for some reason.

"Alright, then” she says “Since someone here insists on it” she sends a glance towards a cheekily grinning Emma “I’ll have a glass of white wine. Do you happen to have Sauvignon Blanc or Chardonnay?”

"We have both.”

"Mhm,” she hums contently as she leans back in her chair, she did not expect to have a choice. “I guess I’ll go with the Sauvignon then. Thank you.” she nods and watches the waitress scatter away to type their order.

"So” Emma says slowly “You’re a wine girl...”

"Girl?”

"A wine woman. Err, lady, a wine lady.” the blonde corrects herself, not before rolling her eyes at Regina’s unnecessary need for subtleties.

"What did you peg me for, then? Beer?” she inquires with an amused smile.

Emma shrugs and nods “I guess that makes sense.”

"I haven’t gone out to a restaurant in quite a while” she finds herself confessing, both to her and Emma’s surprise.

"Really? Why is that?”

"I don’t know...” Regina trails off, trying to recall the last time she sat for a non-work-related dinner in a proper restaurant.

  


_"How’s work going?” he smiled, eyes solely on her from the minute they took their seats._

_"It was fine” she answered while glancing at the menu. Finally making her decision on what to order, she re-focused on him. “How was your day?”_

_"Oh, you wouldn’t believe the day that I had...” he leaned back in his chair as he talked about how the new stock that was just brought in almost caused a massive breakdown. “Anyway, I ended up calling Angie and asking her to come down. You know how reluctant she is to physically be there...” he chuckled and she hummed absentmindedly._

_She tried paying attention, she really did, but her day started early and went on and on as more and more problems kept popping up in regards to their new case. Problems she spared her date from in an attempt to keep the mood light and blissfully work-free. The same couldn’t be said about Robin, that for some reason had never learned how to properly separate his personal life form his professional one. No one understood workaholism more than Regina, but when the brunette stepped out of her work attire and into some high-end evening cocktail dress, touched-up her make up and went out despite her burning desire to crawl under the warm duvet and sleep, she expected the date to be enjoyable._

_And so, as exhausted as only a full week of work can make her, Regina’s eyes jumped over the restaurant as her mind wandered away._

_Her gaze landed on one of the diners, a unique looking woman. Regina stared at the tan, yet blue-eyed woman moving her hands delicately as she talked to her companion. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to asses the situation. Was it a date? A friendly dinner?_

_She kept darting her gaze towards that corner table as the meal went on. With the food on their table, Robin seemed to alternate his topic of conversation to discussing her upcoming birthday._

_"Come on, we have to do something” he leaned over to squeeze her hand. She smiled at him, and not only because she felt like she had to, she did like him. But something wasn’t working. It took her half a meal to realize that the exotic woman she spotted earlier was significantly more intriguing to her than the man she was dating._

_"I don’t know...” she started, trailing off when that spoken woman rose from her chair. Brown orbs descended, scanning the tight fitting dress and the hourglass shaped body that was sporting that attire._

_She lowered her glance and closed her eyes._ Not again, _she sighed, as some unwanted thoughts swirled in her head. When they were safely locked at the back of her mind again, she straightened herself up and took a deep breath._

_Reluctantly so, she took Robin’s hand, squeezing it as she uttered the words she hoped she wouldn’t have to use on this charming, intelligent, good-looking man. But when she realized that this stranger, this woman she didn’t even know, intrigued her more than the man she was seeing, she knew she had to end this. It wasn’t working, if she was side-glancing at women again._

_"Robin, we need to talk.”_

  


"Regina?” Emma’s voice pierces her little bubble and she locks eyes with sea-green orbs. “Are you alright?”

"Mmm” she nods “Just a reverie”

Moments later Jordan returns, holding an iced-tea and a wine glass.

"There you go, ladies. Ready to order?”

Regina nods despite not having looked at the menu.

  


***

  


"So,” Emma prompts in-between bites, much to Regina’s amusement “you’re from Chicago.”

"I am”

"When did you move to New York?”

"Well, depends on which time you’re referring to.” she replies, elaborating upon Emma’s obvious confusion “I went to school here, all the way from undergrad to my master’s’”

Emma’s impressed whistle follows shortly after.

"Master’s? Aren’t you, like, 25?”

"Not quite” she chuckles “but thank you” she smirks.

"Where did you go to school?”

"Columbia”

"Jesus, lady, what are you? A Stephen Hawking in female form? What did you study? Physics?” Emma asks, her tone somewhere between serious and joking.

"Hardly” she scoffs, forgoing the fact that she did consider majoring in Math for a good few months in her senior year of high school. “I’m a lawyer.”

Emma’s eyes go round at that.

"Seriously?”

"Seriously.”

“I hate lawyers” is what ends up coming out of Emma’s mouth. The blonde’s eyes bulge and she immediately retreats from her statement “Not hate, I mean...” she trails off, instead focusing on the rolling laughter that overcomes her companion. With eyes shining with tears of laughter Regina motions for the blonde to stop talking.

"That’s alright,” she says eventually, and there are still traces of laughter in her voice “I hate them too.”

"So why…?”

"Honestly? I don’t really know...” Regina says, frowning as if it has only now occurred to her. “Seemed like a good choice at the time.”

"Well, it is a good choice, no doubt about that.” Emma agrees before diving in her plate for another bite.

"What about you? Why a martial arts instructor?”

Regina watches, fascinated, as the always confident and goofy blonde turns a little shy before mumbling “It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

"I’m sure that’s not true” she counters, watching the blonde’s shoulders lift in a gentle shrug as her eyes cast down.

"Plus,” she adds after a moment of silence “I love it.”

" _That,_ I accept” Regina smiles and the blonde’s lips quirk up to match hers.

  


***

  


"Don’t even think about it” she warns when she catches Emma eyeing the check longingly, as if it’s calling her.

"Come on...” the blonde tries, only to receive a firm head-shake in response.

"That was the deal.” she determines, noting that her companion still doesn’t seem persuaded she adds “It’s either that” she lifts the check and shakes if for good measure “Or I’m going online to search the rate for a private martial art class and pay you whatever it says.” she finishes with a knowing smirk “And if you won’t take the payment, I’ll talk to David, I’m sure he’d love to accept it on your behalf.” she watches Emma deflate at the last sentence, acknowledging her loss.

"Dammit” she whispers under her nose, her word accompanied by an amused chuckle from the brunette’s end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this isn’t over. I had to cut it here because it was getting way too long and the next part is too important to split in the middle, but just so you know, more is coming ;P


	13. Clear And Fresh And Vivid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you who asked for longer updates- you definitely got what you’ve asked for today. My inexplicable need to insert inner monologues and unending descriptions of emotions got the better of me yet again during editing time, hence, this monstrosity of 4,500 words. Enjoy! Oh, and leave a comment, I sure as hell deserve one after this chapter :D

**Chapter 13-**

**Clear and fresh and vivid**

 

The soft expression she’s wearing on her way out of the restaurant disappears in unison with the blood that seems to instantly drain from her face. It’s one step outside the heated restaurant that Regina freezes in her spot, eyes going round when she realizes what a _huge_ mistakes she has made.

"Regina?” Emma turns to look at the standing woman, traces of the carefree chuckle at Regina’s latest sarcastic remark still visible on her features. “Are you alright?”

Brown eyes scan the dark street over and over again. The action feeds the panic that has settled in her chest, making her heart beat fast and irregular, and her breathing shallow and sharp.

"Regina?” Emma tries again, stepping back to where the brunette is still rooted to the ground, her tone etched with concern. “What happened?”

The shaky, uneven gasps of air that enter and leave her lungs when she tries to order herself to _breathe_ do nothing but fuel the overwhelming feeling of helplessness and fear that she’s drowning in; and then, when her mind starts supplying all kinds of possible, _horrid_ , scenarios, she thinks she just might faint.

"Regina!” Emma calls again, this time firmly enough to draw the brunette’s attention. Her distant, almost glazed gaze focuses on a porcelain face, inches away from hers, washed with worry. “What’s wrong?” she asks, turning to look at the street again, as if by some miracle a neon arrow would appear and point at whatever it is that made Regina go into hyperventilation. “Come on,” she urges “talk to me”

Emma grabs her hands, squeezing tightly, and only then Regina notices the strong tremors that make her palms look almost blurry at the edges.

"I-” she starts, and her voice breaks. Emma’s strong grip serves as an anchor in that moment, and Regina focuses on it as she attempts to swallows past the concrete lump that had settled in her throat. “I made a mistake.” she manages to croak out eventually.

"Okay” Emma says patiently, eyes solely on her “What mistake?”

"It’s-- it’s ridiculous...” she trails off, ashamed and utterly mortified when she realizes where she is and with _whom_. How could she let herself slip like that in front of Emma?

"Well, obviously it’s not, considering your reaction.” Emma reasons and the mention causes Regina to flinch away. But the blonde won’t let her, strong pale hands locking around delicate olive-skinned ones. “Tell me” she urges cautiously and passionately at the same time, the odd combination proving just enough to weaken Regina’s resolve.

"It’s dark.” she says quietly, eyes glancing up to scan their surroundings before bowing back down.

"Okay, and how is that an issue?” The blonde asks when nothing follows that statement, and it’s her soft tone that prevents the sentence from sounding mocking and derogatory.

"I don’t like to walk outside when it’s dark.” That statement sounds ridiculous, childish almost, but it’s the way the brunette’s eyes gloss over with indescribable fear that has Emma nodding as if it’s the most legitimate answer in the world.

"Okay” Emma repeats, more to herself than to her company. She looks around, pensive, before returning to Regina. “I’ll walk you home, then.” she determines with a nod, approving of her own idea.

"You don’t need to do that” the brunette protests weakly, her claim utterly unconvincing when her hands are shaking against Emma’s and her voice still wavering at the edges.

"I know I don’t, it’s no big deal” she dismisses and starts walking, leaving no room for argument. Still holding Regina’s hand, out of fear that she will simply sink to the ground more than anything else, they make their way to Gramercy Park.

  


***

  


"Sorry” Regina blurts out randomly, breaking the relatively comfortable silence surrounding the pair as nothing but their footsteps and an occasional passing car is heard once they’ve reached the quieter part of the neighborhood.

"It’s okay,” Emma pacifies yet again, squeezing their joined hands as if to strengthen her claim. “Nothing to apologize for.”

During their few minutes stroll back to Regina’s apartment, the brunette feels faint jerking motions through their joined hands. When it occurs enough times to convince Regina it’s more than just a coincidence, the brunette sends a discreet side-glance in an attempt to locate the origin of the movement. On her third stolen look towards Emma she finally manages to locate the source of the slight spasm, Emma’s right hand. The blonde’s free hand is constantly moving, flexing and closing into a fist again and again. The action raises a frown on the brunette’s face, who can’t think of a sensible explanation but perhaps an old habit or excess amounts of energy.

That specific line of thought is cut once they round the corner to her street. 

"That’s me” she notifies quietly, pointing at the next brownstone building in the narrow avenue.

They halt once they reach the threshold of the building, their hands parting when Emma moves to stand in front of Regina in an attempt to have a better look at the four-stories high building. While her eyes scan the structure, Emma rubs her hands together for a few moments before bringing them to her mouth and blowing hot puffs of air on them. 

Now that her hands are in Regina’s line of sight, the brunette notices the difference in color between the two. She tries to recall seeing the blonde’s hands on other occasions, like demonstrating moves and holding a warm cup of coffee, and as far as her memory serves her, Emma’s hands were always… normal looking.

The frown that graces her features smooths with understanding when a gust of cold air rushes past them. The sight of Emma’s hands tightening instinctively is enough for Regina to finally connect the dots. _She’s cold,_ just like she had been when she was a child, going with her parents on their annual ski trip; with her jaw shaking and limbs pale until they started skiing and the activity would blissfully warm her up.

"Are you cold?” she asks, gesturing towards Emma’s hands, that are now folded tightly against her front, hiding in the junction of her elbows.

"I’m okay” Emma tries to dismiss just as a shiver runs through her spine, effectively countering that same statement.

It takes very little internal convincing for Regina to push herself to ask-

“Would you like to come up?” she offers, her tone a little unsure “To warm up a little?” she adds quickly, feeling the need to clarify her intentions for some reason.

Emma’s gaze casts down “I shouldn’t...” she shrugs, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she lifts self-conscious eyes back up to lock with Regina’s. Now, she isn’t necessarily the world’s best socializer, but even Regina can see through the spoken words; Emma _does_ want to come up, and silently begs for a little push.

"Come on” Regina urges, plastering on her most endearing, dis-alarming smile. “Just for a couple of minutes. I’ll make you some tea...” 

"Alright” Emma relents, nodding curtly “Just for a couple of minutes”

  


***

  


"You _are_ a lawyer” Emma calls out, back to her usual charming self by the time they enter Regina’s apartment. Regina turns to look at the stack of cases Emma is eyeing and chuckles.

"I am”

Now, when in the full lit apartment, Regina has the opportunity to get a thorough look of Emma’s paler hand. She’s helpless to the gasp that escapes her mouth when she notes the bluish/purplish taint of her fingertips.

"Emma,” she breathes “your hand”

The blonde looks down and stares at her hands and scuffs, annoyed. 

"Shit” she mumbles “It’s a full episode. Can I use your sink?” she asks, surprisingly calm considering the state of her hand, and Regina nods immediately.

"Of course” she says and moves to the kitchen, Emma in tow. 

The blonde puts her hand under the stream and turns to look at Regina, as if thinking nothing of it, as if Emma standing with a purple hand in the sink while nonchalantly conversing with Regina is a normal occurrence. And maybe, to her it is. But it’s definitely not for Regina, and her confused, and slightly alarmed, expression seems to remind Emma that.

"Oh, sorry… So I have a medical condition” she provides casually, shrugging apologetically. “And sometimes _this_ happens.”

"Is it from the cold?” Regina asks, distracted by the hand that slowly changes its color to bright red right before her eyes.

"Yes, mostly”

"Why is it only on one hand then?” she inquires, shifting her gaze back to the blonde’s face.

"You held the other one” Emma smiles sheepishly “Kept it warm.” she explains, and Regina blinks a few times until she’s sure that the she’s not imagining the slight pink that tints the otherwise pale skin of Emma’s cheeks.

"Oh” she says quietly, thoughtfully “Would you like me to hold the other one then?” she suggests and Emma chuckles and shakes her head.

"That’s okay, no need, it’s almost over” she shrugs, taking the now back to normal hand from under the steady stream and wiggling her fingers. “May I have a towel?” she asks as she closes the tap, then, flexes and fists her hand a couple of times before gingerly drying it with the towel Regina hands her.

"Would you like some tea?” Regina asks as Emma takes a seat on one of the bar stools, and it’s like the whole hand thing hadn’t even happened.

"Sure”

"So,” Regina starts when her back is to Emma, finding it easier to ask the questions she’s itching to ask without actually seeing the expressive green eyes staring right back at her. “Is it only in your hands?”

"It can happen to my feet as well. Ears and lips too, but that’s rare.”

"What is it called?” Regina inquires, intrigued, back leaning against the marble surface now that the kettle is placed on the stove to boil.

"Raynaud’s Disease”

"I’ve never heard of it.” she admits, hating feeling a little out of her depth. She makes a mental note to read about that disease when her companion leaves.

"That’s okay” Emma chuckles “It’s not extremely common. Usually happens to older people.”

"Mhm” the brunette hums thoughtfully when she realizes just how _little_ she knows about Emma, whom she had come to consider a some sort of a friend. “How did you get it?” she asks, immediately retreating when she spots Emma’s flinch. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” she says quickly “Didn’t mean to pry...” she trails off, mentally kicking herself for doing just that.

"No, that-” Emma scratches the back of her head “That’s okay… It’s a sensitive topic, that’s all.” she says, and when she adds nothing, the message is loud and clear; there’s no more talking about that subject.

"Alright, what kind of herbs do you like?” she asks, her voice a little strained from the effort of being on her toes in order to retrieve her tea-set. She almost has her hands on the kit when a third hand grabs it for her. She turns around to find Emma millimeters away, smiling down at her. But before Regina can even register their close proximity, acknowledge the way Emma’s front is flushed against her side, or pinpoint the blonde’s exact scent, Emma steps away and hands her the wooden box.

"Just ask” she chuckles and returns to her seat, and Regina refuses to pay any mind to her wildly beating heart and slightly shaking hands as she moves to make two cups of tea.

  


***

  


"It’s a nice place, you’ve got here.” Emma says distractedly, eyes scanning the open space of the living room.

"Thank you” Regina replies into her steaming mug, allowing the warm steam hit her face. 

“You should see my Chicago apartment.” she adds casually, feeling at ease and comfortable enough that she actually forgets who she’s talking to. _That’s Emma, not Kathryn you idiot, what did you say that for?_ She reprimands herself for the thoughtless slip, stiffening as she prepares herself for the stream of questions that she’s sure is about to follow; surprised when all she hears in return is a low hum.

She stares at Emma long and hard, feeling mostly relieved but also mildly frustrated and annoyed at her companion’s utter indifference.

"Aren’t you interested?” She blurts out, curious and affronted, and why the hell _is_ she affronted by Emma’s apathy?

"About what?” Emma’s eyes return to hers, and goddammit if that woman is nothing but confusing.

"Me, why I moved here, I don’t know” she splutters “Everything.”

"Of course I am” the blonde answers seriously, looking offended even by the implication of her friend’s words.

"Then why aren’t you asking me anything?”

"I dunno, should I?” Emma responds, obviously perplexed.

"No” Regina answers, frowning at her own confusion; She doesn’t even make sense anymore. If she doesn’t want Emma to ask question, then why is she mad at her for not asking questions?

"I- what?” 

"I’m sorry” Regina sighs, rubbing her face with both hands, her frustration and even slight anger seeping away, making room for exhaustion. The eventful day seems to have been taking its toll on her and it’s starting to show. “I guess I’m just used to people sticking their nose in my business. Where I’m from, that’s how you show that you care.”

Her fingers tighten around the mug she’s still holding until her knuckles turn white. Did she just insinuate that she thinks Emma cares about her? And tell that to her face?! 

Obviously, she’s more exhausted than she assumed she was, and having to navigate around Emma isn’t helping her state one bit. It looks like she lost more of herself lately than she realized, reduced to a stuttering mess who’s resembling a flustered teen more than the empowered, impressive conversation leader she was merely a few months ago. Can’t she hold a decent conversation anymore? How did she let _him_ take so much of her, more than just her body? Is this how it’s going to be from now on, she thinks bitterly, Leonard’s hands gripping and tainting her insides too? And if that’s really the case, what would she be left with in a couple of months, a tired and hollow version of herself?

"No, I get it.” Emma’s voice pierces through her bubble, and she blinks rapidly until it all makes sense again. “I just don’t think that’s helpful in any way. I mean, if you want to tell me, you’ll tell me. Forcing people to tell you things is the best way to push them away.” 

"It guess it does.” Regina approves after pondering that perception, surprised to find Emma’s reasoning entirely true when it comes to herself. If Emma would have pushed her on the pairings in class, or insisted she tells her more about herself, Regina would excuse herself for a moment, leave the building and never look back. It’s Emma’s silent understanding and her willingness to give Regina time and space that drew the brunette closer, and still does; it works perfectly. 

“It’s a good thing that you don’t pry, I’m just being weird, I apologize-” Regina finds herself saying, her words cut by a yawn.

"That’s okay. But I think I’ll go now” Emma rises from her seat “It’s getting late and you’re obviously tired”

Regina’s eyes close for a brief second. 

Despite the constant feeling of inconvenience when around people and her growing exhaustion, Regina can’t help but feel a little disappointed at the prospect of Emma leaving. She hadn’t felt that normal in a long time, and just talking to another human being about something that isn’t her mental state or what happened to her feels _good_. Good mixed with a thousand different emotions, not all positive, but overall good. She’s not just a… A sexual assault victim, she’s also a human being with other traits and thoughts and it’s nice to be reminded of it from time to time. Emma has to go at some point, that much is obvious, she just wishes it were a little longer before the sparkly blonde would leave Regina in the otherwise silent apartment. 

Regardless of her thoughts, she brightens her expression, enough to consider somewhat warm, which isn’t too difficult to achieve when Emma manages to stumble twice on her way to the door.

"Thank you for dinner”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for the class.” 

“Anytime”

They look at each other, at a loss of what to say, when Emma speaks up.

“Same time next week?”

"Same time?” Regina repeats hesitantly, heart quavering when she’s thrown back to her fit earlier this evening.

"I’ll walk you home” the blonde promises “Unless you prefer a different day?” which actually stands for- _Would you prefer we do the whole thing on daytime?_

Regina nibbles her lower lip as she considers her options. Is having a nice dinner with Emma and have her walk her home worth going through that paralyzing fear?

That question sends her mind reeling; it’s the mere insinuation that she craves Emma’s company enough to even consider that, and the truth of what it _means_ are enough to scare Regina away from that specific line of thought.

“I would prefer that”

"No problem, I’ll text you then?”

"Please do”

"Awesome, see you next week.” 

Emma bids her goodbye, and as expected, her absence leaves a large void, one that sucks all of Regina’s energy with it, leaving her drained.

It seems like the nerves building up throughout the day combined with the physical effort and the emotional extortion of being around people all day long exhaust her completely, and Regina is fast asleep the minute her head comes in contact with the pillow. It’s not until 4:30 in the morning that the brunette scrambles to the corner of her room, inevitably starting her day.

  


***

  


"Time passes” she states, quite dumbly since it obviously _does_ , wanting to smack herself as soon as the words leave her mouth.

"It does” Archie responds kindly enough to take some of the embarrassment away and encourage Regina to try again.

"No, I mean, in my head.” she adds in an attempt to explain, to attach objective words to the very subjective and personal emotions coursing through her body lately. 

Many times she wonders if anyone, anyone at all, feels like she so often does; conflicted and confused, depressed and hopeful all at the same time. She doubts someone is able to relate to her completely, since no case is ever the same. She wonders if her words make sense to Archie on a personal level, or if he’s just used to those distinctive thoughts after hearing them all those years form his patients. Regina herself has tremendous difficulty merely sorting out those emotions, let alone voice them out in a way that makes sense; yet every once in a while, it gets too much for her to keep to herself and she just _has_ to let it out.

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, determined to express herself properly. “That night, it finally feels like I’m beginning to move away from it.”

"In what sense?”

"Sense of time.” the brunette groans when she realizes how little sense her words make when voiced out loud. She feels like she’s climbing a slippery wall without nooks or bumps, and she struggles to grab a hold, failing every time.

"That’s okay,” he soothes calmly. “take a deep breath and try again.”

There’s a pregnant pause, long enough to make her squirm. 

"It used to feel like a tattoo in my head, so clear and fresh and _vivid_. Now, it feels like a memory. Memories fade away eventually, even if not completely, they still blur with time and it’s finally starting to blur.” she says, feeling her chest tighten at that statement.

"I still remember it” she elaborates, gaze drifting away, landing on random spots in the room. “but it’s not as present as it used to be. Does that make even sense?” she squints at her words, turning to him, seeking his approval.

In stark comparison to all she promised herself upon entering his office that first time all those months ago, Regina found herself opening up to Archie. Not only in the professional sense of the word, but rather the personal one. She has reached a point where the prospect of missing their appointment, even if it means going only one week without their talks, feels unbearable. She’s leaning on him in a way she vowed to never do. Yet, the voice screaming in her head that he was just doing his job faded into the background, chased by his kind smile and soft care that is usually associated with a friend. He’s not just a shrink to her, not anymore, and that thought hits her in the chest with the force of a train.

"It does” he says a moment later, and her attention is back on him. “Sometimes it is so easy to think that nothing changes.” he starts, uncrossing his legs only to cross them again to the opposite side. “We see ourselves every day, and so we don’t notice the changes; changes that can be fairly obvious to outsiders. You may look at yourself and see the same person, but I can guarantee you that you’re not. Try to remember back to the day you came here.” he promotes and she conjures the picture in her head, this is not a day one easily forgets. “You barely talked” he states, and not an ounce of malice or grudge is present in his tone. “And when you did, you lashed out. Every word that came out of your mouth the following weeks was calculated, impersonal, strategic.” he clarifies when he notes her confused frown. “You said all the things you thought I wanted hear, talked when you felt like you’ve gone far too long without speaking up. Every little emotion that crossed your features was soon stumped down, god forbid I see you as a human being.” he teases lightly, and a wet chuckle scrapes its way out despite the tightness of her throat. “You don’t always see it, but I do. I see your hunched posture loosen, I see your eyes light up, I see you breathe.”

He smiles at her and says nothing in the presence of the tears that sting in her eyes but refuse to fall. She nods curtly, accepting his words as the truth. Maybe she is changing, maybe she is getting better. Her emotions, her thoughts, her actions, are all molded together so well that she has troubles drawing some line in order to separate them, organize them in her head. It takes some time, but micro moments in her life float in her head, proving his point. Her walk in the park the other day after dreading the outsides for so long, her almost enthusiasm at the prospect of going to the library, her banters with Katelyn and slightly awkward but irreplaceable run-ins with the preschool kids. 

Her head lowers bashfully and slight pink tints her cheeks when an image of a certain blonde comes to mind. Emma Swan has managed to draw Regina in a way she’s never experienced before. Even Kathryn had to insist and persist until Regina allowed her in. But Emma had cracked some code in Regina’s operating systems, or else there isn’t an explanation to her willingness to enter a situation she knows is out of her comfort zone; something Regina simply won’t do, but somehow does when it comes to Emma. 

It has been a few weeks now that Regina has felt her perception of Emma change. The blonde was no longer just her instructor, she has long passed the professional-only barrier, demanding space in Regina’s thoughts even after their classes ended.

A faint cough snaps her out of her little reverie. Brown eyes lock with light blue ones and Regina clears her throat uncomfortably.

"Sorry, I-” she swallows “got a little distracted” she mumbles apologetically.

"That’s alright” Archie dismisses her apology immediately, shifting a little in his seat “you seemed to have quite a discussion in your head, and from the looks of it, a positive one.” he tilts his head knowingly and she feels her cheeks get even warmer under his gaze.

"I guess you could say that”

  


***

  


"Regina? Regina, what’s wrong?” Kathryn’s worried voice fills the line. “Regina, calm down, talk to me” she instructs slowly in a soothing tone.

"I- I-” Regina’s sobs are further and further apart, but her voice is still trembling and hiccups rock her body every few seconds.

"Just take a minute to breathe” Kathryn says patiently “It’s not a collect call, I can afford a few more seconds” she jokes lightly, eliciting a surprised and amused snort from her best friend.

"Regina Mills!” the blonde gasps in mocking outrage. “Is that a snort I hear coming from you? I am _appalled_.” she drawls, drawing the last word embarrassingly long, but it does the trick.

"Shut up” the brunette mumbles between wet chuckles, but internally she’s grateful for the distraction.

"Better?” her friend asks, ignoring Regina’s jab and taking it for what it is- snappiness, to cover for deeper emotions, and silent gratitude.

"Yes” Regina sniffs, this time it goes unremarked.

"Want to tell me why you called me at-” Kathryn halts, probably to check the time before continuing, sounding a little annoyed. “Five in the morning?”

"I woke up” she says, tears blurring her sight again as an unbearable feeling of happiness washes over her entire body.

"Okay, and?”

" _I woke up_ ” she repeats, almost in a whisper. “I had to use the bathroom” she smiles softly, hand moving to wipe the gentle tears that slide on her cheeks.

"Yeah, it happens” her friend replies, her confusion easily detected in her tone. When Regina doesn’t reply Kathryn sighs “Are you having a stroke?” she asks and Regina can’t really determine whether she’s joking or not without seeing her facial expression.

"I’m not having a stroke” she reprimands in a voice that brings her back to her days in the law firm, all authoritative and standoffish. “And even if I were, I would definitely be having troubles recognizing it or confirming it to you.” she rolls her eyes at blonde’s flawed logic. Though in Kathryn’s defense, it _is_ five in the morning.

"What I meant was that I woke up because I had to use the bathroom” she clarifies, voice wavering like a leaf in the wind the minute she’s back to that topic. “not the nightmares.” she rasps out, a blinding smile conquering her face as tears slip freely. “I just had to use the bathroom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at our adorable little dense peanut, thinking she wants Emma as a friend. God, I love this phase right before they realize they have feelings :P


	14. The Thorn Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I apologize for the delay, I’m literally sitting in my room surrounded by suitcases. Still hadn’t managed to respond to all of your amazing (!) comments, but I promise I’ll get to it eventually.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the chapters, comments and likes are always appreciated! Keep them coming :)

 

**Chapter 14-**

**The Thorn Birds**

 

"Hey” a voice behind her greets, sounding a little surprised. “Regina, right?” David asks hesitantly, not entirely sure due to their lack of interaction.

"Yes. How are you, Mr. Nolan?” she nods at him, watching his features color with amusement.

"So Emma wasn’t kidding, huh?” he notes with a baritone chuckle, shaking his head “No need for formalities here, I’m just David” he shrugs.

"Alright,” she pauses “David, I’m looking for Emma”

"Oh yes, she did mention something about a one on one session” he says distractedly, eyes roaming the hall. “I’ll go have a look at her schedule and see where she currently is.”

"That would be great, thank you.”

"You’re welcome” he grins, giving her one last look-over before turning and heading towards the ‘staff room’.

"I’m sorry,” David says when he returns, frowning at the sheet in his grasp. “but it says here that she’s having a private with Lily now”

"Oh,” she glances at her watch “well, I am a little early.”

"Maybe she put you on the blank slot she has after,” he concludes, checking the colored squares on the paper again. “you can watch them while you wait, I’m sure Emma won’t mind. They’re in the small studio.” he informs her, patting her shoulder once, his large intimidating hand surprisingly light and soft against her much smaller frame. He walks away before she can utter a reply, and so she’s left standing, staring at the closed door of the small studio to make up her mind.

She knocks on the door once, twice, and only then realizes that there’s no use in knocking. Instead, she opens the door and peeps inside, gaze landing on a pair of disheveled looking women all tangled up. 

The brunette standing behind Emma and facing the door nudges the blonde.

"Em” she says and jerks her head towards Regina.

"Hi” Emma beams when she turns to look at Regina, the word leaving her mouth more as a pant. Regina takes in the messy, half ruined, ponytail and the ridden up tank top she’s wearing; Emma looks spent, but somehow completely alert and present at the same time.

"Am I interrupting?” she asks, self-conscious, while scanning the scene she has just barged into. Lily’s arm is still against Emma’s clavicle, as the blonde, in turn, has one leg perched between her opponent’s. The whole thing looks uncomfortably intimate to Regina, and the brunette finds herself regretting her decision to walk in unannounced. “I can wait outside” she offers quickly, looking to relieve herself from the charged atmosphere and her own inconvenience.

"No need, I’m sure Lily doesn’t mind, right?” Emma reassures, turning to look at the woman in question.

"Fine by me. Come on in.”

"Alright, then” Regina mumbles to herself, taking hesitant steps towards one of the front corners of the room.

"Now I warn you in advance,” Lily chirps, finally breaking free from the intricate hold they were practicing. “you’re about to witness your instructor have her ass handed to her.” she sends a smug look Emma’s way, jumping back just in time to avoid the slap that soon follows.

"Yeah, right” Emma snorts, shaking head “I’d like to see you try”

  


***

  


Regina, ever the eloquent lawyer, finds herself speechless. She fails to sort the emotions currently coursing through her, let alone put them into words.

At first, the pair wrestling in front of her seems just that- wrestling; limbs thrown aimlessly in an attempt to take the other down. It takes Regina a minute or two of watching closely how Emma and Lily go at each other to realize that their moves are nothing but calculated. What had seemed like random movements at first turned out to be very specific and thought-of grips, making their little chaotic ‘dance’ look far more impressive that it did moments prior. It’s the graceful yet quick foot work combined with sharp and strong hand movements that produces an unending match as two forces, each knowing exactly what they’re doing, try to get their equivalent opponent down; shirt gripping and constant attempts of freeing themselves from the other’s hold are enough of an explanation to their disheveled appearances.

What starts as reluctance, and maybe even slight aversion at the level of aggression, gradually turns into appreciation. 

_Emma is in her element._

That realization causes a burst of tingles to originate in between her shoulder blades and spread all the way down to her toes. This is what Emma is about, Regina notes to herself, drinking in Emma’s determined eyes and confident body language. It’s not correcting repeating mistakes of beginners like Regina, or supervising weight-lifting sessions, but fighting against someone on her level. The brunette can practically _feel_ the satisfaction and joy oozing off of Emma in waves, each batch hitting Regina in the chest.

Despite not wearing her signature cheeky smile, Emma looks more alive and content in those moments in between grips than Regina has ever seen her. And for some reason, seeing the blonde instructor like that affects Regina more than she cares to admit, in ways she refuses to acknowledge.

She doesn’t dawdle on it for much longer, as her attention is drawn back to the pair in front of her. A surge of adrenaline, mixed with fear, strikes her body when she watches Lily go for a kick, aiming towards Emma’s abdomen. The blonde blocks it at the last minute, twisting her body in an almost inhuman way, and sends them both tumbling to the floor. And if Regina thought this sport couldn’t get more intimate looking, well, she’s proven wrong as soon as the pair starts rolling around the floor in an attempt the gain dominance.

The groan that escapes Emma’s lips as she struggles to get Lily off her pelvis shoots straight to Regina’s lower abdomen. She tries to ignore the spasm of inner muscles that the sound had provoked, instead concentrating on Emma’s attempts to flip their current position. The blonde thrusts her hips up, again and again, until she manages to throw Lily off-center. She doesn’t waste time and with another throaty groan pushes Lily to the ground and takes her spot as the straddler.

With her face red from the effort and chest heaving, Emma looks up the clock.

"Oh shit, Lily, our time’s up.” she pants, her face mere inches from the brunette, who’s still lying on her back.

"Okay” she says, smirking mischievously. “Get off of me, pervert” she places a firm slap on Emma’s behind, eliciting a howl that is soon replaced with a laugh.

"Yeah,” Emma sasses while getting up, hand still rubbing her sore behind. “and I’m the pervert...”

"Want another one on your other cheek? Just to make it even.” Lily winks suggestively, gaze wandering down Emma’s body.

"Since when do you care about making it even?” Emma retorts, a devilish smirk gracing her lips as she watches Lily’s mouth shape into an ‘O’.

"Ouch!” Lily places a hand on her chest, as if offended. “I _always_ repay the favor” she counters, mouthing each and every syllable with utter conviction.

Emma shakes her head, grinning “Alright, let’s not scare Regina” she chuckles and Lily’s eyes go round.

"Oh, sorry” she says, face tinting with a whole different kind of red. “forgot you were here.” she shrugs apologetically, slightly bowing her head.

"I-” Regina stutters, finding herself a little dazed by the last couple of minutes “That’s alright” she smiles tightly, ignoring Emma’s inquisitive, I-know-better stare. “No harm done” she assures, lying easily. 

Lily doesn’t need to know how wildly her heart beats and how sweaty her palms are, especially when Regina herself isn’t entirely sure what to attribute her state to.

  


***

  


"Are you sure you’re okay?” Emma asks once Lily leaves and they’re left alone in the studio.

"Positive” Regina assures, having collected herself by now. Her calm, authoritative voice proves enough to convince Emma that this is, indeed, the truth and she smiles.

"Cool, let’s start then.” she jumps off her seat and offers Regina a hand. 

There’s a frown gracing her face all the way back to the apartment, as she tries to understand why she seems to get more affected by Emma as the time passes when it’s obviously supposed to be the other way around.

  


***

  


She stares at the ringing phone in her hands, and sighs. There’s no point in delaying that call: if Regina doesn’t answer this one, he will call again, and again, until she picks up. And she will, eventually, only then she will have to deal with a much angrier version of him. She closes her eyes and reminds herself of their last encounter, then the powerful sensation that resigned in her days later, knowing she stood up to him.

_You can do this. It’s just a call._

"Mr. Goldman” she greets, trying to harness her most neutral, collected voice, knowing she will need it.

"Regina, dear, please call me Lester.” Goldman replies sweetly, despite knowing how unnecessary it is by now. Regina is no fool, and trying to act as if the tension between them doesn’t exist doesn’t _actually_ make it true. Goldman knows it, she has no doubt he does, but for some reason acting as if everything is fine has always been his thing. As if disregarding their last conversation will make Regina forget, when in reality all it does is aggravate her further. Goldman is not only a shark, but a snake, and that Regina had learned very early on.

"Lester” she corrects herself, playing along, despite deeming it utterly pointless. He is not going to get anything by manipulating her, and if he thinks he will, then he is sorely mistaken.

"How is my best lawyer doing?”

She rolls her eyes at the half-assed flattery.

"I’m doing fine, thank you.” she replies, enjoying the silence that follows way too much. She knows he waits for the same question in return, and leaving him hanging is gloriously satisfying, even if in the most childish of ways.

After a pregnant pause where nothing is said, Goldman clears his throat.

"Well, I guess you’re never the small-talk kind of person.” He observes “So maybe we should cut to the chase then.”

"Alright” she says, hating the tension the takes over her body at his words. Despite not wanting to, she’s still affected by him, still cares what he thinks of her and what he has to say.

"You know I want you back here.” he starts, and she has to fight her instinct to barge in and bring them back to their fight from a few weeks ago. Instead, knowing he wouldn’t come with demands without some sort of a proposition, she lets him talk. “I think, for your sake and the company’s, that you need to go back to practicing law rather than that first year nonsense you’ve been doing. In fact, I’m very surprised at your choice of action. I think highly of you, and despite my disappointment, a part of me would like to believe I made the right decision in taking you as my protegee.” he pauses for a breath, letting Regina stew in the uncomfortable, and almost shaming, atmosphere. 

Despite not liking the man very much, nor his motives from day one, Regina can’t ignore the simple fact that selfish or not, Goldman took her under his wings, worked with her, and gave her opportunities that no one near her age nor level of experience had gotten. And even if she doesn’t like him very much, Regina still owes Lester her knowledge, experience, and reputation.

"All you need is a push in the right direction.” he muses out loud, and Regina’s rage flares at his pretentious tone. “You are fairly young, and we tend to forget that in the face of your maturity and talent. And so, I come with an offer, an offer that shows you not only how much you need to be back, but also how much you _should_ be back.”

_Here we go_ , she thinks to herself as she takes a seat on her couch. She’s fairly sure there isn’t a single thing Goldman can say that will convince her to drop all that she has built here in favor of going back to that place, definitely not right away.

"You’ve shown great premise Regina, and no matter what challenges I presented to you, you faced them head on. I’ve been looking for a successor for a very long time. I want to make it worth-while for you, I want you to see in yourself what I see in you, and that’s why I’m offering you, if you agree to return immediately that is, Johnson’s spot.” he finishes and the line goes silent.

Of all the things Regina had considered, this was never even an option. Johnson’s spot, that's, that’s _huge._ This is the position Regina has been aiming for from day one. She had padded herself with crazy amounts of patience when entering the company, knowing her goal will take time, and lots of it. And yet, here she is, sitting in her own living room after missing months upon months of work, being offered one of the most prestigious and senior positions in the entire company.

She shakes her head, still unbelieving, but feels her resistance slipping.

"But that’s-- that job belongs to Logan.” she blurts out eventually, incredulous. _This is not possible, it has to be a joke._

"It is, but I’m offering it to you.” Goldman replies, his smugness at catching Regina off-guard evident in his voice, but this time Regina can’t focus enough on that to actually care. She’s too engrossed by the fact that she’s being offered the Economy Department Manager position. “If you agree to come back _now_ ,” he emphasizes, his voice going sharp and low at the last last word. “you’ll get the manager position in a matter of weeks, and I’ll sign on it if you wish.”

Her mouth is agape as she tries to wrap her head around that conversation, around the fact that Lester Goldman is willing to promote a thirty something junior employee to run the single most powerful and large department in the firm. And that’s without even acknowledging the fact that this is her dream-job, her stepping stone to either running that firm or starting her own. 

"What happens if I decline?” she finds herself asking in a low voice, powerless against her need to understand the situation as a whole.

"You don’t want to test me Ms. Mills” he hisses threateningly, and it has been a very long time since he had called her that. She winces against her better judgment and says nothing in return. “Take the deal, you have until next Friday to notify me.”

There’s a faint click and the line goes dead.

Casting her glance down, she swallows thickly and allows the full picture to finally be presented in her head. 

So far, Regina had chosen to disregard her ‘previous life’. The time before the incident wiped completely as Regina tried to _survive._ But now, now she’s better. Not healthy nor happy in the complete sense of the word, but not the fragile soul that she was when it had just occurred. Now, she has the ability to look further into her past and consider her wishes before that time; and that raises a question Regina has been dreading to answer, or even ponder: How crucial is it for her to remain in New York?

Sure, she has some anchors here that had helped her get back on her feet, people who supported her, sometimes without even knowing they did. But is it necessary? Are the library, and Katelyn, and the studio, and Emma mandatory? Or are they just for comfort?

Archie is absolutely critical to her recovery, that is a solid fact, not to be undercut. But if needed, Regina knows that online sessions could replace the ones in his stuffed office. She wishes, somewhere deep, that this wouldn’t be an option, effectively determining it for her so she won’t have to decide. Yet it isn’t, online sessions are possible, possible and doable.

Regina wants to stay in New York, desperately so. It finally begins to feel as if her legs has found solid ground at last. Looking at her routine, looking forward to it, is something she never thought she would achieve. Feeling in control, sometimes even _safe_ , is absolutely unbelievable to Regina, who stumbled out of that damned bedroom, locked herself in her own bedroom, and vowed to never let anyone in again.

And yet, what about all the things Regina aspired to before that night? 

Aren’t years upon years of working hard, trying to get ahead and sacrificing so much for it count? Are those last few months going to erase everything that she had wanted? Will those times of despair be enough for her to give up on her past self, on her dreams? Is it giving up if she isn’t even sure she wants it anymore? 

How can she give up on such amazing opportunity? One that Regina wouldn’t even consider possible in the near future. Would she be able to look back at this moment, years from now, hopefully once better and recovered, and forgive herself for declining that offer? Or would she look back and regret the choice to accept it, while discarding her mental state in the prospect?

Regina leans back, head resting against the couch, and tries to calm herself down. 

The emotions coursing through her confused mind and the panic of having to choose a course of action overwhelm her in a way she hasn’t experienced in a while. She runs her hands through her hair, over and over, hoping the repeating action will somehow take her mind off of those thoughts. 

When that fails, she considers alcohol. While still on the couch she stares knowingly at the lower cabinet in her kitchen, internally argues for and against choosing it as a form of distraction.

Eventually she gives up on drinking herself to oblivion, dreading the lack of control and haze it enforces just as much as craving it. Instead, she moves to her bedside table and fishes out the only book she has brought from her apartment in Chicago. 

The way she came across that specific book was as accidental just as much as it was bound to happen.

She was still in high-school when she stumbled across that old looking book. It was one of her many late nights in the library, a place that had become her safe haven in those same years. She didn’t lack people to hide from, whether it was the kids from school who mocked her social awkwardness and diligence to her studies, or her mother; who wasn’t the most pleasant human being to start with, but definitely escalated in the years following her father’s sickness and later on death. 

Regina felt trapped by her surrounding, misunderstood and lonely. The insults, as much as she tried not to let them, penetrated her skin and burned their way to her soul. The emotions and grief for her father had consumed her. The atmosphere in their cold home aggravated her. She was confused and ashamed at the thoughts in her head, and all those toxic feelings continued to reside within her. It was a tough time for Regina, and she felt completely and utterly alone. 

Choosing the company of books over human beings, the teen found herself spending unending hours at the quiet sanctuary; where no one demanded she talked nor excepted her to communicate, no one laughed at her looks or mocked her studiousness. She felt relatively safe from the world while in the old, ratty, nearly deserted library. Safe from all but her own demons.

It was in one of those nights, pacing through the library in an attempt to postpone having to go back home, that she noted that book discarded on the floor next to one of the armchairs. She picked it up, intending on putting it back in its rightful place when her eyes landed upon the title.

_The Thorn Birds_

The book read, and Regina’s hands ghosted over the old cover as her eyes scanned the rural scenery that was the book’s cover. Ever the curious girl, she turned it around and read the summary. In a lack of a better thing to do, and another hour to spend at the library before she simply _had_ to go home, the brunette decided to give it a go.

Later on, Regina purchased several editions of the book that had become her absolute favorite. Despite reading it time and time over, the story never ceased to amaze her. The old era in which the book takes place and the rather odd plot had paled in comparison to the complete and utter adoration Regina took to it. That story swallowed her whole, empowering the troubled girl while instilling humility, gratefulness, and hope in her at the same time.

She lifts her most favorite copy, ancient and almost falling apart, but the most authentic one Regina had manged to get her hands on. Gently, she leafs through the thick volume, letting the intoxicating smell of the old yellowing pages fill her nose.

Taking a deep breath, she returns to the first page, settles comfortably as her eyes start drinking in the words. She’s a little distracted at first, eyes jumping off the page and out of focus as the troubling thoughts wash over her. But eventually, her beloved book proves just enough to help her take her mind off of it and soon she’s engulfed in the story, concentrating on Meggie and Ralph and their issues rather than her own.

When it’s time for bed, she’s much calmer. 

She has a week, a full week to decide. She will head to the library, have a session with Archie and a private class with Emma before she has to make up her mind; and that naive belief that the answer will somehow dawn on her during the course of those seven days is foolish, unrealistic, but just enough to help put her pending thoughts at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided not to be that mean, and so there isn’t a cliffhanger in this chapter (I pushed the whole scene forward to the next chapter). I honestly would’ve killed another writer for doing this to me so I though maybe it’s a sign that I shouldn’t do this to you guys XD Anyway, things are about to go down in chapter 15, make sure you don’t miss it. I do my best to update this story every week but since I’m moving it might not go as planned. So if you want to be informed whenever this story is updated- you can either subscribe to this story in particular or my account in general, both will send you alerts when I update :)


	15. Two Broken Ladies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I know I’ve been MIA for almost two weeks and unfortunately I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again. My life is incredibly hectic nowadays and probably will be until I manage to find a solid ground (AKA an apartment ><). I will do my best to upload every week but the way it looks now, it might not happen in the next couple of weeks.
> 
> Don’t forget to comment and like, it will definitely cheer me up :P

 

**Chapter 15-**

**Two Broken Ladies**

 

"Martha” Regina acknowledges as soon as she steps out of the elevator. “How are you doing today?”

"I’m good, darling. How are you?” the kind, middle-aged woman replies, eyes cast down at the pile of papers on her desk.

"I’m alright” the brunette returns, distracted by the sounds of chatter and ruffling of papers that reach her ears. She turns to look at closed door and frowns. It is not like Archie to drag a previous meeting on the account of someone else’s time, yet today that seems to be the case. “Is everything alright in there?” she asks eventually, curios at Archie’s uncharacteristic behavior.

"Oh yes,” Martha replies, this time her attention solely on Regina. “it’s a personal matter, he’s helping a friend. They should be done any minute now.”

Regina nods her understanding and moves to seat on one of the available waiting chairs. Moments later the door-handle is pressed downwards, and Regina is up and walking before the door is even opened.

She comes to a halt when her eyes land of a familiar face, one that in no circumstances should be greeting her at _this_ office. She’s still somewhat gaping when the blonde looks back at her, surprise coloring her features, and asks “Regina? What are you doing here?”

"Emma, is everything alright?” Archie’s voice reaches the frozen pair, shaking them out of their temporary haze.

"Well, I-- I mean--” Regina’s pathetic stammer is thankfully cut the minute Archie appears next to Emma.

"Oh hello” he greets with a smile, blissfully unaware to the charged situation he had just stepped into. “Emma, I see you’ve met one of my patients Regina-”

"Mills, yeah...” Emma fills in, green eyes still piercing Regina’s brown ones.

"Do you two know each other?” he frowns, gaze alternating between the shell-shocked pair standing at the threshold of his office, now caught off guard as well.

Regina opens her mouth to reply but Emma beats her to it.

"Regina’s is a member at my studio” she provides, and her sharp, perceptive gaze turns from Regina; She looks at Archie and back at the brunette, and her furrowed brow smooths as understanding washes over her.

_She knows,_ her mind screams, pushing her pounding heart to the base of her throat. She can feel the panic spreading, conquering one muscle after the other, making her numb and completely alert at the same time. _Emma knows._

"Really?” Archie asks, surprised, and turns to look at her as well. “Is that so?”

Regina clears her throat, intending on answering, but then feels the words crumble at the back of her throat. She nods instead, straining to concentrate in spite of the blood that fills her ears and the non-rhythmic obscure sounds her heart produces while fighting against her ribcage.

"I didn’t know you’d taken my advice.” he replies, thoughtful, and that earns Emma’s undivided attention.

"You told her to come to my studio?” she asks, and it’s getting too much for Regina to handle.

With great effort she manages to find her voice and utter “I don’t feel very well, Dr. Hopper. I think we should reschedule.”

She takes advantage of their temporary confusion and rushes to the elevator, the doors closing just as Emma comes to her senses and calls her name.

_Shit. Shit. SHIT._

Regina exhales and closes her eyes momentarily as she attempts to regain her composure. What is she going to do now? Now that Emma knows?

She _must_ know.

Dr. Hopper treats two types of patients: sexual offenders and victims of sexual abuse, and she’s pretty sure the blonde can deduct which one Regina is. The brunette can’t even begin to dawdle on why Emma was there in the first place, as she walks as fast as she can muster back to her apartment.

Her bag buzzes against her side and she fishes for her phone, hissing an undignified word upon seeing Emma’s name on the screen. She returns the phone to the bag and focuses on taming the nausea that attacks her all of a sudden.

Goldman's proposition becomes more and more appealing by the minute.

Her chest squeezes involuntarily when she realizes that deep down she knows she doesn’t want to leave. And yet, it’s as if her prayers were answered, and now the decision was made for her.

She locks the door after herself and sinks to the floor against that same surface. The similarity to a day experienced months ago makes it a whole lot worse for Regina, who finds herself at a loss against the helplessness that takes over; As if nothing has changed, as if she’s going round in circles.

The loud banging on the door sends her palpitating heart into the pit of her stomach, and she practically jumps out of her own skin.

"Who- who is it?” she calls, her voice as shaky as her entire body is.

"It’s me, can I come in?” Emma asks, voice going soft and almost inaudible at the end of the sentence.

"It’s not a good time, Miss Swan.” she replies and rises from her seat on the floor. Her lower back screams at her and she wonders how long she was seated like this, until Emma showed up.

"Regina...” the blonde sighs on the other side of the door, and the soft thud that follows, probably a result of Emma’s head hitting the hard surface, earns a frown from the distressed brunette.

"No” she determines curtly, absentmindedly leaning towards the door.

"Come on” Emma urges.

"No” she repeats, though this time sounding significantly less certain.

"It’s very rude not the open the door when there’s someone outside.” the blonde points out and Regina barely manages to muffle the wet chuckle that threatens to bubble out of her at that.

"Since when do you know anything of courtesy and proper etiquette?” the question, aiming to poke fun and deter the blonde, comes out a harmless teasing instead.

"Some woman taught me” Emma retorts, sounding far more amused than she should considering her current location. And still, Regina finds herself turning the lock and opening the door, meeting a sheepishly smiling martial arts instructor.

"Well?” she clears her throat uncomfortably, hands folding against her chest in a matter of seconds. Emma’s green eyes follow that gesture and then drift to the living room behind Regina’s stiff form.

"Can I come in?” she asks instead, ignoring Regina’s question and defensive stance.

The brunette sighs in defeat, _that nothing short of adorable smile be damned_ , she thinks as she steps aside and allows the blonde in.

  


***

  


Regina fidgets in her seat. This couldn’t get more uncomfortable even if she tried.

Emma and Regina have been taking turns stealing glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking. That back and forth thing ends when they accidentally lock eyes, the direct contact sending Regina’s relatively catatonic state to hell.

She shoots up, suddenly too fed up with their current position, and heads towards the kitchen.

"Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” she asks again in lack of a better way to fill the deafening silence that she simply loathes. Regina is not used to being with the blonde and not saying a single word to her, and the fact that they have managed to spiral down to such level of uncomfortableness that they have trouble talking to one another makes her skin itch.

_She needs wine for this._

"What are you having?” Emma pipes up from her seat on the couch.

"Wine. Red.” she states shortly and grabs the glass she had just finished filling. She downs it in one go and decides that she definitely needs another.

She ends up bringing the entire bottle to the coffee table, and places one glass in front of Emma. Still avoiding direct eye contact, she fills Emma’s glass and moves to refill hers.

"There you go” she says into her glass and takes another hearty dose.

She can feel Emma’s eyes watching her intently but doesn’t give in to the temptation to look at her observer. Emma watches her for a long moment and then, _finally_ , moves to take her glass.

"Thank you” she mumbles and takes a sip.

"You’re welcome” Regina replies, trying to keep her smile at bay when she catches, from the corner of her eye, the blonde’s face twitching at the taste.

After god knows how long, the brunette hears a rustle to her right. Emma sighs and clears her throat while her hands rub her thighs.

"We’re going to have to talk about it eventually.”

"Not necessarily” Regina counters, despite knowing that Emma’s right.

"Come on...” her companion snorts and shakes her head. When Regina doesn’t respond, she takes the lead. “Alright, I’ll go first, then.”

The brunette doesn’t audibly reply, but her curious gaze finally lands on Emma. The blonde looks torn. Regina watches her carefully, noting the way her green eyes, previously taken by uncertainty, color with determination.

"Here we go” she whispers to herself, and it’s just loud enough to reach the brunette’s ears, making her chest tighten. Whatever Emma is about to say, is personal and important to her, and that fact alone helps Regina ease a little into the sofa.

"So, the reason I went to see Archie in the first place was to get my file.” Emma starts, hand flying to rub the back of her neck “The file from when I was his patient.”

"You were his patient?” Regina blurts out, surprised, and they finally look at each other.

"Not like that...” she trails off, clearing her throat and evading her gaze. “Before Archie did his specializing in, well,” Emma pauses and breathes out slowly. “You know. He was merely a psychology major student, and the school he was in had an aid-program, a cooperation with the foster care system. Anyway,” she sighs “I was a part of that program”

Upon Regina’s frown Emma clarifies. “As one of the foster kids.”

"You’re a foster kid.” Regina half inquires half states, and Emma hums in return.

"Remember the thing I had with my hands a couple of weeks ago?”

_How could I forget?_ “Yes”

"That disease” Emma’s lips purse into a thin line at that word, exposing her clear dislike of the term. “It started when I was in the system, and so it happened, under Archie’s supervision. I was looking for any mentions of the syndrome in his files for a petition I’m submitting. That’s why I was there in the first place.”

There are so many questions flying through Regina’s head at that moment and she has to repeatedly remind herself that this is none of her business. She should be grateful Emma has decided to share that with her to begin with, and repaying her with invasive questions would be the opposite of what she deserves for doing that.

With that said, Regina can’t help the curiosity that piques upon hearing the word petition. More often than not, those are in some way connected to the law, something Regina is awfully familiar with and good at. 

Noting how vulnerable Emma looks, Regina hesitates for a few good moments before asking-

"May I ask what sort of petition you’re filing and to whom?” she inquires as gently as she can master, paying close attention to the blonde’s reaction.

"Why- why do you want to know?” Emma replies quickly, looking slightly alarmed.

_Because I care about you._ “Maybe I can help… I’m a lawyer after all.”

She waits patiently for Emma to consider her words, ordering herself to be supportive no matter what the blonde’s response will be.

"I’m not really sure where” Emma admits shamefully. “But I’m trying to figure that out. No one’s _sure_ how people get Raynaud’s syndrome, not entirely, but some doctors I was under the care of believed it had to do with the conditions I lived in at the time. So yeah...” Emma trails off and sinks into the couch, hands twisting almost unnaturally in her lap.

"You want to hold them accountable” the brunette deduces, ever the lawyer, even in her free time.

"That and-” she bites her lower lip and shakes her head. “forget it.”

"No, what is it?”

When Emma doesn’t respond she charges forward and takes the blonde’s hands in hers. Something in Regina snaps when she sees Emma like that, with her whole entire strong and beautiful being, reduced back to the once helpless foster child.

“Emma” she urges, and when Emma’s eyes meet hers they’re glossed over.

The blonde lets out a shaky breath, and nods faintly.

“I may need a treatment soon, one that I can’t afford. And, I mean, I was government property for the first eighteen years of my life, under their supervision, and they let it happen. I don’t have a family to cover the costs for me, they were supposed to be my family, they were supposed to take care of me.”

Regina rises up and pulls Emma with her by their joined hands, and there isn’t an ounce of panic or reluctance, hell, even doubt, in her body when she opens her arms and wraps them around the distressed blonde.

She hugs her tight, until Emma’s hands circle her form, until her rapid breaths slow down, until it isn’t so scary anymore, even to her.

"At least now you know why I don’t like to be touched.” Regina remarks, her attempt to make it sound light and joking failing completely when her voice breaks multiple times throughout that sentence.

"Were you” Emma pauses and Regina stops breathing. “harassed?” she whispers quietly, but Regina hears every word loud and clear thanks to their close proximity.

"Worse” she says and closes her eyes when she feels Emma’s hands squeeze her further into the embrace.

Her body stiffens momentarily as she waits for the surges of shame and regret that are about to follow, gasping silently when she realizes that this feels nothing like the previous times she had blurted it out. No one pushed her to do it this time, Emma didn’t ask nor demand she tell her, it was Regina who wanted to.

_Maybe that makes all the difference,_ she thinks to herself and relaxes her taut form. There’s no regret this time, only relief, and Regina’s pained expression cracks with the slightest upward movement of her lips.

"Look at us” Emma chuckles wetly, still not having let go of their embarrassingly intimate embrace. “Two broken ladies.”

Regina chuckles and gives Emma’s strong back another squeeze, as if to emphasize.

"Did you know him?”

The question remains unanswered for a long moment, hanging above their heads.

"My boss” Regina responds eventually, surprised at how relatively easy it is to voice those two words out. She wonders momentarily if this is what Archie referred to when he urged her to share, to relieve herself from the burden of carrying it alone.

"Asshole” Emma seethes, and Regina’s right hand starts rubbing soothing circles on her back; feeling the need, for some reason, to calm the blonde down.

They slip into silence.

"When you said conditions...” Regina trails off, trusting Emma to pick it up.

"Run down foster homes” Emma states, slight bitterness in her tone “Cold winters, no proper heating systems, terrible winter clothes. Resulting in severe frost bites and damage to the blood vessels.” she finishes, and despite her calm tone, her rigid form is enough of an indication to how angry and hurt and betrayed she really is.

"Bastards” she says in response, furious at the blatant injustice, at the lack of basic human compassion Emma had to deal with growing up.

“You have no idea.”

They part, both still sniffling and wiping the last remains of the tears from under their eyes when Regina announces-

“Well, I definitely need more wine”

"Absolutely yes to more alcohol, but this _wine_ thing is absolutely disgusting.” the blonde replies, scrunching her face at the metallic taste of the burgundy liquid to the sound of Regina’s chuckle. “Got any beer?”

  


***

  


"Thanks for coming with me” Emma says as she leans forward to grab another fry.

"It’s not like I had a choice.” Regina states dryly, mockingly rolling her eyes. “It’s my duty as the hostess, you know, since I didn’t have beer in my house.”

Emma laughs and bumps her shoulder against Regina’s, the action breaking the brunette’s facade, who has a small proud smile tugging at her lips.

Regina wasn’t gifted with a natural, brilliant sense of humor, she was never the class clown, or the entertainer, but the one kids would go to if they had a math problem, or didn’t know when the next test was. She had come to accept herself as the serious, responsible one, even learned to appreciate it over the years; but despite giving up on being one herself, she seemed to gravitate towards those vibrant, spirited personalities like the ever colorful and witty Kathryn, and now Emma. The blonde’s easy smile and almost juvenile personality is the type Regina found herself envy of at times. This lightheartedness, this irresistible charm and pull that always draws others towards them. They have no idea how lucky they are, to be such loved, socially-adaptable humans, who could find their ground everywhere, effortlessly.

And so hearing Emma, the ultimate outgoing person, laugh at one of her very few jokes, is enough to make her chest puff.

"You know what? You’re right.” Emma muses out loud and sips on her cold beer. “In fact, I believe you should apologize for your failures as a hostess and the fact that I had to come _here_ ” she pauses, eyebrows arched and eyes gleaming with amusement, until Regina’s expression matches hers. “in order to get my heart’s wish.”

"Is that so?” Regina cooperates despite it being the most absurd conversation she has taken part of, enjoying Emma’s grin far too much to put it to an end.

"Oh yeah” she shrugs and settles into the soft plush material of the booth they’re sitting in. “Sure you don’t want any fries?” she asks after a moment or so.

"No, thank you.” the brunette answers, her distracted tone drawing the blonde’s attention.

Emma follows her line of sight, landing on the well-dressed man currently approaching their table, wearing what she supposes is meant to be an inviting smile.

_Please don’t_ , Regina urges soundlessly, but the man isn’t showing any intentions of slowing down or changing his course. She can feel Emma’s slight movement to her right but her eyes remain glued to the guy’s face until he reaches their table.

He does a quick look-over, unfortunately, of Regina and opens his mouth.

"No” Emma’s curt, nonchalant answer to his still unasked question or statement freezes the man in his place. Regina holds her breath as his gaze drifts to Emma, back to her and then to the floor, before her nods once and walks away.

"How-” Regina breathes out, shaking her head in disbelief. “How did you do that?” the brunette asks, still watching the lost looking man trying to get his bearings.

"Do what?”

"They never take no for an answer” she frowns and turns to look at Emma when the latter chuckles.

"It’s not the verbal rejection that chased him away, it’s my body language.” the blonde states knowingly, gesturing to the hand Regina hasn’t even noticed was draped on the couch behind her shoulders up until then.

"Oh”

"Don’t worry” Emma shakes her head grinning, showing no intention of dropping said arm. “I’m not going to hit on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” she mentions casually and leans forward to grab more fries and stuff them in her mouth, the movement making Emma’s sternum flush against Regina’s right side.

_Why not?_ Is what almost escapes her lips.

“Good” Is what she ends up responding with.

They focus on their food and drinks for a while after that topic, the mutual silence allowing Regina to bask in utter confusion at the emotions she’s experiencing in regards to Emma’s last statement.

She’s not entirely sure, and probably will never be when it comes to such unstable and confusing variables known as humans, but she thinks Emma just came out.

_Okay, maybe not came out in the classic sense of the word_ , her mind argues, _but perhaps indicated that she’s gay._ Regina isn’t sure why she’s so agitated by that when she obviously shouldn’t be. It’s just an attribute, one that shouldn’t matter to her, especially when Regina herself finds her mind prone to thinking those same thoughts when a fine looking woman walks past--

_No_.

She made a decision long ago to stop allowing those thoughts to exist in her head. She made up her mind on that topic, when the subject first arose, and there’s no reason to go back to it now. She was so confused, torn, at the time, and she doesn’t need that confusion clouding over her now. In fact, it’s the last thing she needs.

Her personal debate aside, Regina still finds herself intrigued by Emma’s confession. The only way to find out for sure is asking her directly, but Regina won’t do that, it’s too rude. She tries to tame the curiosity down with a sip of her cocktail, which doesn’t seem to work when she speaks up, seconds later.

"So, you and Lily...” she starts and trails off shyly.

"What?”

Regina tries to swallow past the inconvenience caused by the topic of the conversation, concentrating solely on the wooden surface of their table. “Dating?”

"No, not really” Emma snorts and shakes her head. “What made you think that?” she inquires, looking and sounding completely unbothered by Regina’s question; and so the latter allows herself to relax a little.

"Oh, it’s just that in the studio...” she recalls, shrugging when an acceptable ending to that sentence refuses to turn up in her head.

"Oh!” Emma laughs when understanding washes over her. “No… I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that we share the same outlook when it comes to having certain needs; physicality doesn’t have to be one with mentality, or romantic interest, sometimes it’s just what it is, a physical need.” she shrugs and downs the remains of her beer, the little droplets of water covering the once cold glass trickling down her chin.

Without thinking much of it Regina grabs a napkin and dabs the blonde’s strong jaw.

"Thanks” Emma responds calmly, but her eyes drill holes in Regina’s face, looking for something Regina’s oblivious to.

"And how’s that arrangement, err, working for you?” the brunette finds herself asking, eyes unable to detach from Emma’s green ones.

The blonde, in turn, takes her time scanning her companion’s face before replying with “Eh”


	16. Dysphoria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you’re all thinking: is this... an update?  
> Well, yes, it is!  
> I’m so sorry for not being here for so long, there are so many reasons to it, all valid (I did not just get lazy). Let’s just say that in the past month or so I had four different occasions in which I didn’t know where I’m going to sleep that day. Life has been hectic and rough on me lately. Hopefully it will get better soon, but until then, here’s the one chapter I do have written down :)  
> Please comment and make my day a little brighter!

 

**Chapter 16-**

**Dysphoria**

 

"Do you think I’m running away?” she blurts out as soon as her behind hits the plush sofa, hands immediately coming together in a tight clasp on her lap.

"From?”

"My life”

"You’ll have to elaborate a little” Archie replies kindly as he leans forward and grabs his yellow notepad. 

He pushes his perched glasses upwards and the action promotes a small smile when Regina recalls how much she used to despise the habit that now she finds close to endearing. The small smile is wiped off her lips when the troubling thoughts that have been occupying her head since Goldman’s call remake an appearance.

"Do you think that this” her hands gesture to their surrounding “This whole ‘new life’ I’ve built for myself, is running away from my problems?”

Archie takes a second to ponder that question, his thoughtful blue eyes ghosting over the room. 

His seriousness whenever it comes to anything that is related to her astounds Regina time and time again; there’s no such thing as an unimportant question, or a ridiculous one. Each and every inquiry or statement the brunette makes is treated as valid and important in his eyes, and respectfully so are his answers. He never takes his job lightly, never makes her feel as if his answer is the same constructed one for years now, one that is used again and again on his different patients. No. He takes his time before replying, his responses and opinions always authentic and personal, and for that Regina is thankful. 

Generally speaking, she has to give it to Archie. His compassion, kindness and endless sense of humanity may not be the first trait someone, and certainly not Regina, would contribute to what makes an excellent therapist, yet it’s those same traits that had managed to fight so many of her walls down over these months. In the end, it’s not one’s academic excellence, thesis, or the reputation of university to which they enrolled, but the sense of comfort and safety they create while in their overly stuffed clinics, and the trust they build with their patients, that has those in question opening up enough to actually treat themselves.

And so Regina finds herself asking him questions to which she genuinely doesn’t possess the answers to, something she would never do prior to the last few months. 

Asking for one’s opinion when confused or unsure opens Regina to the possibility of being influenced by others’ opinions, a very dangerous concept in her ‘old world’, where everyone has their own personal agendas (that don’t necessarily line with hers). She had learned very early on to keep her true struggles to herself, even if it meant pondering those issues in her head for hours at a time. She preferred giving herself a headache, trying to answer her own questions and make her own decisions, rather than risk taking advice from someone who might not have her best interest at heart.

Only now, when out of this toxic environment, that Regina realizes just how exhausting and close to inhuman that surrounding was for her. In a world of snakes -also known as lawyers- it was impossible for the brunette to let her guard down or answer a question without analyzing its following consequences at least twice.

And not for the first time, she wonders how the hell she had managed to hold on there for so long; and how on earth she’s going to be able to do that if she decides to come back now.

"I think” Archie starts, and she averts her attention from her complicated thoughts willingly in order to concentrate on him. “that everyone has their own way of handling their problems, and I don’t think anyone would blame you for wanting to distance yourself from an environment that was toxic for you.” he answers thoughtfully and she nods, biting her lower lip as she tries the convince herself in the validity of his words.

"What made you think that way, to begin with? Is that a feeling you’ve been walking around with for some time now?” he inquires and she shakes her head.

"No, I-” the sigh that escapes her lips is long and pained, and she takes a breath and then another one before continuing. “I was offered the position of my dreams back at the company in Chicago, the only condition being that I return immediately. And ever since Goldman, my boss and one of the owners, brought it up I’ve been having that internal debate whether or not to accept that proposition.”

"I see” he hums, scribbling down before looking back up at her. “And do you? Want to do it, I mean?”

"That’s the thing, this job was everything I hoped for when I started working there. But when I try to imagine myself packing my things and leaving everything I have here behind I--” she runs a hand through her hair “I don’t want to. It’s easier, better, here in New York and I want to stay, but at the same time, I can’t help but think that what I’m doing is basically avoiding going back to real life and facing my problems.”

"I can see why you might feel that way, but before you delegitimize the amazing progress you’ve made in the past couple of months, let me ask you this: try to leave the past and your past wishes out of the equation for a moment, is this job something you still want, as in now?”

"I think so” she responds hesitatingly, frowning when she realizes that she’s faintly shaking her head at the same time.

"Look, people go through experiences and those experiences change them. You are not the Regina you were before that night, and that’s okay.” he assures in a comforting voice. “What you wanted then might be different from what you want now, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I just want you to understand that wanting that job a year ago, doesn’t guarantee you would want it now. I’m asking you to isolate your thoughts and emotions and separate them from one another and that’s a very difficult thing to do, but is that job _still_ what you want?”

She opens her mouth to reply, the words dying on her tongue when his hand flies upwards, signaling for her to wait. He leans back in his chair and lets out a long breath, the action automatically making Regina to do the same. He had told her many times in the past, that sometimes people are so intent on answering the questions they are asked, that they forget to truly think about their answers. _The words at the t_ _i_ _p of our tongues aren’t always what we truly think, but once those quick responses are out, we probably won’t take them back._

"At this very moment, it isn’t what I want, no.” she confesses when she finally feels connected to her deeper logic rather than her retorting mechanism, and admitting it out loud is verging painful. How had she changed so much in such a short amount of time?

“Okay so-” her therapist starts but she cuts in.

"But what if I’m still affected by the” she swallows “Rape? What if I don’t want it now because I’m still working on getting back on my feet and in a month or so I’ll look back and regret not accepting that offer?” she asks, knowing Archie doesn’t have the answer, just like she doesn’t.

“What if I’m missing the greatest opportunity of my professional career?” she cries out when the panic washes over her. “And what if I do choose to take that offer, and move back to Chicago just to run away from what I have here?” she rasps out, angry and frustrated at herself when her resolve suddenly weakens and tears fill her eyes. “I don’t know who I am anymore.” she confesses with so much shame, she feels it burning her from the inside. “How can I not know what I want? How can I not want this job?”

A box of tissues is thrust her way and she accepts it willingly, using it to dry her tear-stricken face. And not for the first time, she wishes Archie would tell her what to do, decide for her, since it’s abundantly clear she has no idea what she’s doing.

"Regina,” Archie sighs and leans forward, his inviting warm eyes bearing into hers “those are questions not you nor I can answer. There’s no way of knowing how you’d feel in a week, let alone in a year or more. You have to try and pinpoint what is it that scares you so much about going back and about staying, since right now it looks like you fear both options equally.”

She squishes the used tissue in her hands in frustration. When is it going to get to easier? The minute she seems to overcome one barrier, another one is presented to her, and it’s so goddamn exhausting to struggle all the time. She doesn’t get a break, whether it’s the nightmares, the fear of being outside, the severe social anxiety she had seemed to develop or her constant reluctance of being touched. Her inability to overcome those fixations wears her down mentally, and the worst thing is that she has no idea what she’s doing wrong. How can she possibly get better like that?

“Look,” Archie sighs, eyeing her intently. She knows he can see her distress, and she’s almost sorry for him, for how much time and effort and energy he puts in her only to see her march in place, failing to get better. 

“There’s a lot of emotional baggage clouding that offer. And I know you probably think to yourself that it’s supposed to be a rational decision.” he suggests and she clears her throat and confirms his assumption with a curt nod. “But it isn’t, not entirely. Regina,” he breathes and straightens his back determinedly, unintentionally causing her to mimic his posture. “your emotional state _is_ a part of that decision. You can reach the best job in the world and it won’t mean a thing if you’re feeling distressed and unsafe. That experience is a part of you, and will be for the rest of your life to some extent. It might sound depressing, but this is something you’re going to have to pay mind to in every decision you make. Just like everybody else consider their limitations whenever they are about to make a choice, you have to do that as well.”

“I just don’t understand” she shakes her head, and tears spring in her eyes in a matter of seconds. “I don’t recognize myself anymore.”

He smiles at her, in that half understanding half pitying manner. And if it were anybody else they would have that ‘compassionate’ expression wiped off their faces within seconds, preferably with an especially prickly and precise snarky comment, though she’s not utterly opposed to an educational slap either.

"I can always reply with an ‘I know how you feel’, but that will be untrue. All I can stress is that even if the change originated in a negative experience, it doesn’t make it less valid than any other changes we go through in life. 

“Looking in the mirror and being confused about who we are and what we want is always stressful and scary, especially when we think those days of dysphoria are way behind us, now that we are adults. But the truth is, that our mind shifts and changes for the entirety of our lives. You are not the Regina you were a year ago and you’re not the Regina you’ll be in five years, and that would’ve been the case either way, maybe slightly less evident but with or without the recent events. You can choose to fight it or you can take a deep breath and try to lose your preconceived aversions and try to acknowledge and accept it.”

"So you think I should decline the offer?” she asks and frowns at his negative response.

"I didn’t say that. I can’t be the one making that decision for you, Regina. You have to make it yourself, you’re the only one truly aware of your genuine thoughts and feelings on this subject, spoken and unspoken. All I ask is that you try and reach a conclusion that is right and fair to who you are today, even if it doesn’t go in one hand with your ‘previous self’; and also, that you keep your mental state in mind. Getting this job might be just what you need in your professional career, but is it something you can handle? Are you sure you’re capable of working with Leonard again?”

That question sends a wave of nausea all the way from the pit of her stomach to the back of her throat, and she quickly places a hand on her mouth as a reflex, praying the contents of her stomach will remain just there, _in_ her stomach; and if this moment isn’t enough to prove just how unready she is, then she has no idea what will.

  


***

  


"Hey” she says when Kathryn’s grinning face appears on the screen of her computer.

"Regina Mills, is that a wine glass I spot on your desk?” she asks in a mix of astonishment and poorly hidden appreciation.

"Mhm” she hums and lifts said glass to her lips before taking a sip and setting it down with a smirk gracing her features.

"I am so jealous” Kathryn sighs and touches the screen longingly, making Regina laugh out loud.

"Oh shut up” she responds “you finish work in, what, an hour?” she more of determines than asks.

"Eh, I don’t know about that one.” her friend shrugs and rolls her shoulders to release some of the tension in her back. Sitting in the same position for hours at a time definitely has its effects. “We’re swamped with prep work.”

"So how come my mailbox is empty?” Regina asks, not knowing whether to be disappointed at being forgotten or thrilled about the work she is about to receive.

"It’s not-- you can’t really do that from there, it’s for a trial. We need to _know_ that material inside and out, and the only way to assure that is to actually do it ourselves. A brief or a summary won’t work in this case, I’m afraid.” the blonde sighs. “Trust me, if I could assign some of my workload to you I definitely would have done it by now.”

"Oh” Regina sags a little in her seat, looks like boredom is still on her menu for tonight, having finished her latest book from the library early this morning.

"How are you hanging in there?” Kathryn asks and lifts her chosen beverage, an impressively large cup of coffee, to her lips for a sip.

"I’m fine”

"I don’t think so.” Kathryn counters and leans into her spinning chair, her slight movement from left to right distracting Regina far more than it should.

"What do you mean?” she frowns and her friend gives her a knowing look.

"Regina, honey, I’ve known you for years now” she states as if it’s enough of an explanation. “Plus,” she adds when Regina is about to question her about the statement. “You’ve been in New York for months now, and it’s the first Skype call we make. You barely call me as is, let alone ask to see my face, something is up.” she finishes with a self-assured smirk. “So, what is it?”

"Fine” she relents, rolling her eyes when Kathryn’s smirk grows bigger at the admission. “You’re not going to like it.”

"Okay...” she prompts, looking serious all of a sudden. “I’m listening.”

"Goldman called me last week and made me an offer. An offer that is _very_ hard to say no to.” she starts, and waits for Kathryn’s nod and curious hum to continue. “He offered me the senior manager position in the Economy department.” she lets out in one breath, looking at her friend’s eyes go wide and mouth open just before the words seem to register in her head.

"He did what?” she calls loudly, then places a hand on her mouth when she remembers where she currently is.

"Yes” she confirms, hands gripping her thighs in an attempt to release some of the nerves that wash over her whenever thinking of that offer. Getting past that situation, whichever direction it would go, would take her some time.

"I-- No, that’s--” the blonde shakes her head animatedly while blinking rapidly in a disbelieving manner. “I mean there’s no way--” Kathryn stumbles over her words for a good few seconds before she seems to pick herself back together. “Come again?”

"Goldman offered me the Economy dept. manager position if I agree to return immediately.” she repeats slowly, her serious demeanor enough to convince Kathryn that this isn’t some prank.

"Oh my god.” is all she says in response.

"I know.”

"What are you going to do?”

Regina releases a long breath before locking her gaze with her best friend’s over the computer screen before remembering to switch her focus to her camera in order to fulfill her intention.

"I think I’m going to decline.”

"Really?”

"Really.”

"Because of…?” Kathryn swallows and nudges her head to signal for the office around her, her insinuation clear.

"Because of everything. But yes, also because of him.”

"Wow” is all her friend says. “That’s-- wow.”

"I know” the brunette sighs. “What I’ve been through,” she pauses “it changes a person.” she says a little harshly, as if challenging Kathryn to counter that. She catches herself in time, voice softening when she continues. “I’m not that hot-shot, strong lawyer you know and love anymore.” 

The sadness that washes over her at that admission feels like there are a thousand arrows released with her chest as their aim. She’s slowly and painfully coming to terms with fact that she left her old self back in Chicago, back in that _bed_. She still experiences difficulties accepting it, seeing it as a positive, or at least not as a negative change, but it’s terribly hard. This is not a change she chose, it was forced on her, and for that fact alone, for that feeling of being robbed of a choice, she will never get over.

"Regina...” Kathryn sighs, shaking her head disappointingly. “For how freaking smart you are, you are really pretty darn stupid.” she determines and lifts her hand to halt Regina’s comeback, “Wait, hear me out. I think you forget that I knew you _long_ before you were Regina the shark, Goldmsan’s protegee, and, what was it? Gold money?” her face scrunches adorably as she tries to recall that specific nickname.

"The golden coin” Regina provides helpfully. She hated that one the most, but it stuck around the finance department. What started as ‘the golden child’, quickly turned to ‘the golden coin’ when Regina’s worth started being used as a currency in the firm. That’s one thing she definitely won’t miss.

"Yeah, the golden coin… Anyway, I knew you back when you were still that nerdy, awfully shy, socially awkward girl that used to chase everyone away with her witty comments. If that’s how little you think of me, then I really messed up as a friend, because I couldn’t care less about your titles, Regina. I don’t fucking care if you’re a lawyer or not, if you’re perceived as the golden child or passed as a regular person, because _I know_ how amazing you are and how smart and kindhearted you are and that’s all that matters, that’s _why_ I love you. And all that I want is for you to be happy, and safe, and content. And my friend.” Kathryn adds in afterthought, smiling warmly at the soft, vulnerable expression that colors her best friend’s face. “Do whatever feels right to you, I’ll adjust if I have to.” she promises, and an _aww_ follows seconds later when Regina tries to sniffle as covertly as possible, but obviously fails. “Don’t cry, you’re going to make me cry!” she calls out, trying to shoo the emotions away with some humor, but soon enough she feels the prickly feeling behind her eyeballs.

"Sorry” Regina mumbles automatically, and they both snicker.

"So...” Kathryn prompts after a few moments of silence. “Is everything okay on the money side?” she asks gently, voice almost a whisper on the _m_ word.

"Oh, yes, yes, don’t worry.” Regina is quick to assure, in that aspect, she’s been very lucky, from the moment she was born. “It’s not what I’m concerned about.”

"Then what are you concerned about?”

"What am I going to do? I don’t know yet how Goldman will respond, but I’m pretty sure it will be a matter of days, weeks tops, before I lose my job.” she sighs, hands coming up to rub her face and then push through her hair only to land with a soft thud back on her thighs.

"Okay, first, you don’t know that for sure just yet.” Kathryn mentions, and places her chin on the palm of her hand. “But even if it is the case, you’re not going to have any problem getting a job. Think of your amazing resume, your degrees, your skills.” she points out, sounding more self-assured as she goes “You were _extremely_ sought after, even with zero experience, so I can only imagine what will go down now that you also have amazing training and experience under your belt. But,” she lifts a finger “you don’t have to go down that path if you don’t want to. You can start your own business if you say money is not an issue, be independent and take only cases that you want to take, or you can do a 180 degrees turn and switch to finances.” she says, sending a meaningful look Regina’s way “you know just as well as I am you could’ve gone either way back then and you chose law because of your mother. You can still work in finances if you wish to do something a little different, that’s exactly why you busted your ass in Columbia, so you’d have the opportunity to choose whenever you deemed it necessary.”

"Mmm” Regina hums, considering all the different options Kathryn had just revealed to her, a little surprised by the fact that she didn’t think of those herself. “I guess you’re right.”

"Obviously” Kathryn nods with a smirk, shrugging at Regina’s laughter.

"Ugh, I miss you” Regina blurts in a rare moment of pure, uncalculated honesty.

"I miss you too, honey” Kathryn replies, her entire body leaning towards the screen. “I’ll come back soon, don’t worry.” she promises and Regina nods her approval. 

"You better”

"I will, you have my word.” she repeats, a devilish smile gracing her lips. “In fact, I’ll be so in your hair you’ll beg me to leave.”

Regina’s eyes narrow with suspicion and challenge and Kathryn matches her level of intensity, only her gaze is amused when she next speaks up.

"How’s Emma doing, by the way?” she inquires in what supposed to be an innocent tone, that soon turns to an evil laugh when Regina huffs and shakes her head.

"I’m going to go now” she informs, fighting with every fiber of her being not to blush all the way up to the tips of her ears. _Why did Kathryn just asks this for? Does she... know?_

"Gotta go, talk to you later.” Kathryn waves and hits the ‘end call’ button, but her knowing cackle still echoes in Regina’s ears minutes after.


	17. People Are Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I assume your first thought when getting the alert or seeing that this story was updated was to think that your eyes are fooling you. But no, after almost four months (!), I’m finally back. Can’t really give enough excuses to make up for all the time but I will definitely try to keep this train moving from now on. Probably won’t be every week but I’ll do my best to update this story as frequently as possible.
> 
> I hope there is still a fandom to read the rest of this story /:
> 
> If you are here and liking what you read, please let me know. Enjoy!

 

**Chapter 17-**

**People are home**

 

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

"Excuse me?” 

Regina turns to look at David, the brunette’s eyes landing on the large, thick mattress he carries under his armpit.

"She’s not in a good mood today, I’d be careful.” he explains with a small smile, tilting his head towards the door.

"Oh” she frowns, casting her gaze down to Emma’s cup of coffee in her left hand. _She would probably still appreciate the caffeine._ “I’ll just drop it off, then.” she says and lifts said coffee cup as an indication.

"Suit yourself” David chuckles and continues his walk to the large hall. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The hesitation is short lived, and moments later Regina’s knuckles knock on the door. Unbothered by the groan that serves as the response, the brunette pushes the door open with her torso.

"Hi” Regina greets, and there again is the shyness to her voice that is never there otherwise. She doesn’t dawdle on it, choosing to focus on Emma as the blonde’s head rises up from in between her hands, her expression exhausted.

"Hey” she sighs, her stance relaxing slightly.

"I brought you some coffee... I can just leave it and head out if you prefer to be on your own.”

"I’d actually appreciate some company” the blonde admits while leaning into her chair.

"Alright then” nodding in turn, Regina places one large Nitro brew coffee in front of the blonde instructor and takes a seat.

"Thanks” Emma mumbles, chasing the word with a large satisfied gulp and halts. Frowning, the blonde opens the lid and observes the liquid intently.

"Is everything alright?” Regina asks eventually, when nothing else follows.

"That’s a Nitro brew” Emma mumbles as she lowers her nose to the rim of the cup and sniffs. “With cinnamon” she states and looks up at Regina.

"Yes” the brunette confirms “Is that… not okay?” she asks, confused, trying to recall Emma mentioning the matter in the past and coming up empty.

"No, it’s perfect” Emma shakes her head, looking perplexed. “It’s just-- is that always what you get me?” she locks eyes with Regina, who in turn nods.

"Yes” she responds “Nitro cold brew with cinnamon and vanilla flavored cream.” she repeats the sentence she had said countless times to the barista across the street.

"That’s how I like my coffee” Emma almost exclaims, and Regina rolls her eyes at that.

"Well, obviously” she deadpans “Why else would I bring this coffee if it wasn’t what you liked?” she asks teasingly, unable to stop the light sarcasm from sipping into her tone and choice of words. Her chest tightens a little at that, it being the way Regina used to channel humor and the fact that lately it seems to occasionally make an appearance in her speech. It’s relieving, if not a little encouraging. It sounds almost impossible to her that Emma, who seems to know her present self more than anyone these days, doesn’t now of that snide yet playful side of her that seemed to completely disappear after Leonard. 

"I just, I just didn’t know you knew...” Emma clarifies, clearing her throat and fidgeting a little in her chair.

"Well, you mentioned it to me a couple of times in the past. I tend to remember things.” Regina shrugs, ordering herself to remain perfectly still and poised under Emma’s intense gaze. The blonde continues to look at her, eyes jumping over her facial features, dropping lower for a short moment only to come back up, and just when it gets almost too much for Regina to handle, Emma’s phone blares loudly.

"I need to get this” Emma says after briefly glancing at the screen. “You can stay here if you want” she adds when Regina begins to rise from her seat. “Just, you know, don’t make stupid noises.” Emma instructs, in what starts as serious and ends with an amused smile.

The brunette, in return, rolls her eyes and shakes her head, a matching grin forming on her lips.

"I’m not a child Emma” she presses, more for the sake of teasing rather than actually reprimanding. 

"Hello?” Emma answers the call and starts pacing around the small part of the office that isn’t occupied with ludicrous amounts of papers, equipment and god knows what else.

"Alright, so what did they say?” she asks eventually, going quiet when the other side responds. Her mildly hopeful expression dissipates in a matter of seconds, morphing into one of displeasure. 

“What? But that’s what the legal department said about them!” she exclaims in frustration and pinches the bridge of her nose, tightly enough to turn the tips of her fingers white. 

“No, Lea, listen to me--” she breathes out and inhales sharply “listen--, I understand that, but what am I supposed to do if no one, in any organization whatsoever, knows who to appoint me to?” 

She nods as the woman on the other side speaks, the muscles in her jaw twitching almost rhythmically.

Regina finds herself staring at the movement way too intently. She mentally reminds herself that this is not the time and that Emma is upset and quickly shakes the thoughts out of her head. 

Emma smashes to phone on the desk with such force that Regina is surprised when it actually buzzes moments later with an incoming message.

"Fuck” she sinks into her chair with a hiss.

The brunette looks at her, at a loss of what to do. Trying to not think much of the possibility of it being the wrong move, Regina reaches out and squeezes Emma’s tense hand over the blonde’s phone. 

It seems to be just what Emma needs at the moment.

She watches Emma’s back sag and her face soften as her hand turns beneath Regina’s grasp to squeeze back.

"Sorry” she mumbles, her breathing still a little heavy. “Bureaucracy” she grits out and wipes her eyes forcefully while avoiding eye-contact.

"That’s okay” Regina responds gently in a tone she isn’t even familiar with while softly rubbing soothing circles on porcelain skinned hand. “Anything I can do to help?”

The blonde sighs and shakes her head, looking defeated.

"I don’t think so, but you’re more than welcome to try.”

"Alright” the brunette nods, determined to be of use. “What is it?”

Emma groans, shaking her head at mere thought of the issue.

"Remember I told you about the whole petition thing?”

"Yes”

"That I was trying to figure out how to even approach the topic?” Upon Regina’s nod she continues, “So it turns out to be much more complicated than I originally thought. I don’t even know where to start, and I already phoned the social services and the legal department and I keep being thrown in the opposite direction, every organization telling me it’s not their jurisdiction after it has taken _days_ to reach them. I don’t know how to even start figuring that out, it’s so goddamn frustrating.”

"Okay” Regina says. 

"Okay?”

"We’ll figure it out, I’ll help you.” she finds herself saying with confidence, despite not having a clue where to start or what to do. 

"Are you sure?”

"Positive”

"I don’t want to take up your time”

"Nonsense” Regina dismisses “Besides, I’ll probably be out of a job soon anyways, I could use the distraction.”

That sentence grabs the blonde’s attention.

"What?

It’s Regina’s turn to sigh and deflate a little, and Emma’s cue to squeeze her hand in comfort and silent encouragement. 

That small ‘back and forth’ between them, where the two step up to help and support the other, sparks a weird feeling in Regina’s chest. It’s the usual endearment she feels towards Emma only this time laced with something even deeper, meaningful; and despite how utterly scared she feels at the moment by those emotions, Regina doesn’t shy away from them. She accepts the rapid heartbeats and the slight tremors that originate in their connected hands and spread all over her body, the nervousness suddenly wearing a more positive connotation. 

Regina doesn’t necessarily feel safe at that moment, basking in those new feelings, but it still feels _good_. Holding Emma’s hands feels good. Confiding in her feels good. Leaning on her feels good.

She swallows thickly and looks up at the expectant green eyes and allows herself to wonder for the first time if Emma might feel that way as well. That thought, that question, wasn’t relevant until now, since Regina wouldn’t even consider it herself. But now, that the damn dam broke, she can’t help but wonder if it’s possible.

A faint squeeze draws her back to the blonde sitting in front of her.

"Mhm?” she asks, having lost track of what they were talking about.

"Your job” Emma reminds her “you said you might lose it?”

"Oh yeah. That’s a long, complicated story.”

"That’s alright” Emma assures “David’s covering my classes for me today, I have time.”

  


***

  


_You’ll be fine. You’ve got this._

She repeats to herself, several times, even aloud, during that evening. 

The bordering-crazy amounts of excessive energy originating from her nerves send her to a walk in the park, followed by a specifically complicated meal that conveniently enough takes up all of her focus. With her head and hands set on cutting, seasoning, checking the oven, stirring, Regina has zero time to drown in panic.

She’s calmer afterwards, but the ends of her nerves remain alert and buzzing, and she decides that one glass of Scotch, to blur the edges just a little, will do no harm.

She cherishes that glass, taking the time to pour it gently into a beautiful glass tumbler, handmade and one of its kind, that cost her way too much. She looks at the amber liquid with awe, watching rays of light breaking in the glass’ crystals.

She then takes small, tasteful sips, leaving the liquid in her mouth until it burns as much it does her throat on its way down. She closes her eyes and allows the faint chill it causes to ripple through her, and when those subside, she takes another sip and jump-starts the process all over again.

She ends up having two _generous_ servings before she manages to bring herself to the couch with her phone in hand.

Her emotions seem to be heightened and blurry at the same time, her usual sharpness softened by the alcohol, making it significantly harder for her to pinpoint her exact feelings and thoughts. She gives up trying, and instead moves to stare at her phone.

_This is it. You don’t want this job._

_Not anymore._

She allows herself one last moment of blissful doubt and then presses the call button.

"Regina, good evening.” Goldman greets, making Regina smirk despite the nerves that overflow her system; the man is absolutely sure in his plan, confident Regina would take the offer. The brunette can only imagine the joy she will experience watching the smugness dripping off of his every word evaporate into thin air when she declines his offer.

"Lester” she replies, letting him have a few more moments of pride and accomplishment. He put his name out there for her, by promising her the biggest job under his jurisdiction besides his own, and refusing it will be far more personal than one would think. It would be mentally slapping him in the face.

"So” he starts and she can hear him smacking his lips, pleased with himself. “When is your flight back home?”

Her face contorts at his use of the word home. Chicago isn’t her home, not anymore. In fact, she’s not even sure it felt like home in the first place.

Most people have connection to places. They have strong ties with the house they grew up in, the streets they used to run around and play in, the stores they knew by heart. But Regina, Regina never felt that type of connection; not to her childhood home, that more often than not felt ill-fitting and smothering, that reminded her of her dad’s death; not the school she went to, where she really only felt outcast; not even the library, that though forever will be appreciated, serves to emphasize how unhappy she was growing up.

And New York, might not be her home, but it’s definitely as close as she has gotten to one so far.

Because, to Regina, home was never a place. It wasn’t the fours walls of her room, or the backyard of her house, but the people that surrounded her. To Regina, _people_ are home, and this so called ‘cold, lonely city’ is proving to have more people who are home to the brunette than she ever had before.

"I’m sorry, Lester, I’ll have to decline. Your offer is very much appreciated, but I’m good where I am.”

Silence is all she receives in response.

"Take whichever action you deem appropriate-”

"Regina-”

"Have a good evening.”

She stares at the phone wearily, almost expecting him to call her again and bring his wrath upon her life. When he doesn’t, the fear that he’ll do something worse roots in her stomach. She fights the urge to call back and explain, or hell, even change her mind. She does not want that, she has to remind herself numerous times, before her mind is able to stop obsessing over the different possibilities.

_It’s done._

She should feel relieved, and she is, in a sense, but also lost.

She moves to pour herself another batch from the luxurious decanter and swallows it in one go. She takes another one and downs it quickly as well, and her almost desperate movements are ages apart from the cherishing sips she took prior to the call. The first two glasses were steady, comforting gestures, yet these two are verging on a destructive instinct.

She has to put all of her loosened self control on not reaching out for another glass, and instead grabs her phone and distracts herself in the best way she can muster at that moment. 

_Regina- I guess you’re stuck with me now._

Her shaky fingers grasp the phone tightly as she waits for the reply.

_Emma- Did you do it?_

Her phone buzzes a few minutes later.

_Regina- Yes_

_Emma- How did it go?_

She releases a short, sharp chuckle and types.

_Regina- Fine, I guess._

_Emma- How are you feeling?_

_Regina- Fine, I guess._

_Emma- Regina…_

_Regina- Emma…_

Biting into her lip forcefully enough to break the gentle skin, the brunette waits for the reply that refrains from arriving. Maybe she was too aggressive, too off-putting.

She sighs in relief when her phone buzzes, mere moments later.

_Emma- Want some company? Some cheering up?_

_Regina- I wouldn’t be opposed, but I warn you, I’m a little tipsy._

_Emma- And yet you're still as eloquent as the freaking president._

_Regina- Is that a yes?_

_Emma- Yeah, I’ll be in a few._

_Regina- I don’t have beer._

_Emma- hahahaha, thanks for the heads up, I’ll bring some with me._

  


***

  


"Hey”

"Hello” Regina leans on the door, feeling the slightest bit off balance when she moves backwards to allow the blonde in.

"You _are_ drunk!” Emma laughs and Regina scoffs in return.

"I am not” she argues, sounding petulant even to her own ears. “I’m a little tipsy, that’s all.”

"Well I have some catching up to do then.” Emma says and places a crate of beers on the table. With expert hands she pulls out a bottle and opens it. She downs most of it in one go, grinning bemusedly when she catches Regina’s raised eyebrows.

"Can I get you anything to drink or eat?”

"I’m good on the drinks side but what do you have to eat?” Emma asks, moving to stand close to Regina as the brunette pulls a Tupperware from the fridge.

"I have lamb roast with some chili rice.”

"That sounds delicious, hit me up” Emma responds excitedly. Regina halts when her alcohol infused brain seems rather quick in taking Emma’s words and attach numerous inappropriate meanings to them. She shakes her head as if to shake those thoughts away and places the food in the microwave.

By the time Emma finishes wolfing down the food, she leaves two empty bottles of beer on the counter to accompany the almost clean plate.

"Alright, let’s cheer you up a little.” Emma clasps her hands excitedly, rummaging in her back-pack until she manages to locate and pull out a folded piece of fabric.

"What is it?” Regina inquires curiously upon seeing it. When she texted Emma earlier, her intentions were to have the blonde here with her, knowing that her presence alone would be enough to lift Regina’s spirits or at least provide some comfort; but its seems like the blonde had a different plan in mind.

"Just wait and see. It always helps me get my good mood back, I think you’ll like it.” Emma shrugs, and with the blanket in hand, moves towards the living room. She looks around and nods her approval. She places the, _is that a blanket?_ , on the coffee table and retrieves a cluster of rods.

"Do you happen to have a blanket or a bed-sheet we can spread on the floor?” she asks casually, ignoring Regina’s sheer look of curiosity. 

When Regina retrieves a thin blanket that doesn’t have much use in the winter anyway, Emma spreads it on the floor and smooths it over until there aren’t any creases.

"Can I use the pillows?” she points at the rectangular gray pads that are placed neatly on the sofa. Earning the brunette’s hum of approval, Emma takes a matching pair and places them on the blanket.

In one fluid motion, the pile of poles turns into a square structure on which the blonde drapes the what seems to be a some sort of blanket.

"Err, Emma?” the brunette mumbles, confused and intrigued at the same time. Not that she minds it one bit, but the blonde seems completely comfortable moving around Regina’s living room building what must be a tent a tent.

"One sec, almost done” she assures distractedly while her eyes scan the living room, searching. She _ah_ _-ha_ s seconds later and moves to the free socket next to the couch to plug in a cable, that upon further look, appears to connect to the blanket.

"Done!” Emma declares proudly and chuckles when her gaze lands upon Regina’s face. “Come on in” she gestures with her hand towards the makeshift tent while lifting a portion of the fabric to enable Regina an entrance. The brunette hesitates for a short moment, but ends up complying. 

She sits awkwardly in the dark space, breath catching in her throat when Emma crawls in and settles incredibly close to her.

"Lay on your back.” Emma instructs gently and does the same. Their sides are flushed against one another, while the bigger portion of their legs stick out of the ‘tent’. Nothing but darkness surrounds them.

"One sec” Emma mumbles and Regina hears a rustle to her left. 

“Got it!” the blonde announces in triumph. “Ready?”

"Whenever you are.” 


	18. The Other Half

**Chapter 18-**

**The Second Half**

  


“ _Got it!” the blonde announces in triumph. “Ready?”_

_"Whenever you are.”_

  


A soft gasp escapes her mouth a moment later, when dozens, if not hundreds, of lit spots take up the entirety of the blanket Emma has brought along with her.

Regina has to blink multiple times until she realizes what it is that she is seeing.

"Emma” she whispers, hoping her tone would convey the rest of the words that die on her tongue out of sheer amazement.

"Beautiful, huh?” Emma says in response, and Regina doesn’t have to look at her to know that she’s smiling.

"It’s gorgeous, I’ve never seen anything like it before.” she admits, tilting her head slightly so she can see the illuminated lines of the blonde’s profile.

"Yeah,” the blonde hums, casting a glance towards Regina before looking back up. “Wasn’t easy to find...”

"I bet” she hums in return, refocusing on the map presented above her, trying to see if she can remember anything from science class but coming up short.

They’re quiet for a while, taking in the tiny dots of light that make up the constellations. The lights seem to have a calming effect on her, but it’s the combination of the alcohol that is currently in her system with the countless lights in front of her that have her feeling almost dazed.

"When you said hard to find,” Regina starts, intrigued “What did you mean by that?”

The blonde chuckles softly and the brunette feels the slight movement it promotes through their pressed sides.

"It’s a long story”

"I have time” she responds, using the exact same words the blonde had used on her days prior, and her lips quirk upwards just a tiny little bit at that.

"Alright, then.” the blonde concludes and softly clears her throat before she speaks up again. “When I was in secondary school, 8th grade I think” she pauses to consider it before humming in confirmation. “Yeah, 8th grade. This new girl, Jess, moved to our school. Anyway, she and her family were really nice to me since day one. They didn’t seem to care that I was in a home, didn’t think I’d be a bad influence on their daughter like some parents of the kids in my class often thought; just really nice, warm, accepting people. Jess and I became really good friends, which was like a breath of fresh air after years of being an outcast and, at best, felt sorry for. We would hang out at school and at her house and her mom would never let me walk back or take the bus.” Emma smiles fondly at the memory and Regina finds herself hanging on to her every word, thankful for every positive experience Emma had in those years.

"Her dad was an interior designer and he made her the best room you could imagine. He was a space enthusiast who tried to pass on the hobby to his kids and found a neat way of doing it: he sketched the major constellations on the ceiling and then went over it with glow in the dark pen. I remember thinking what an amazing dad he was, to do something like this for his daughter.” Emma says casually, but the weight of those words isn’t that easy to dismiss. Regina doesn’t have to put much imagination to it, she knows how it feels like to lose a father, yet she wonders what’s it like, if it’s harder or easier, to not have one in the first place.

"We would have sleepovers sometimes and it was my favorite thing in the world, at least at that time. We would turn off the lights and put some pillows on the floor and just lie there and look at the stars. And she would explain things to me, that her dad had told her, and would be so engrossed in sharing it with me that she completely missed the fact that I wasn’t looking at stars at all, but at her.” Emma snorts softly.

“She would go on and on about how ancient communities used the stars as a guide and even as a compass while I was mapping her profile so intently I was surprised I didn’t burn holes in her face.” the blonde chuckles at the memory, eyelids fluttering closed, and Regina’s heart practically stops beating when she realizes she’s doing same thing; and as much as she wants to tear her gaze away from Emma in case that the blonde decides to open her eyes or look at her instead of the stars above them, the brunette finds that she just can’t.

Emma’s features are so warm and inviting under the faint light, her smile so genuine and carefree, and the micro-changes in her expression from up-close are addictive to look at, so much that Regina is simply stuck staring.

"I was absolutely in-love with Jess, not that I really understood it at all at the time. All I knew was that I wanted to be around her all the time. And one time I tried to kiss her,” she halts, and Regina leans even closer with unmasked interest “it wasn’t a good decision” the blonde continues, her expression darkening slightly.

"What happened?” Regina whispers and Emma finally turns to look at her. They’re so close the brunette is having trouble focusing her gaze and that proximity sparks quite the tingles all over her arms and neck.

"She jumped away from me, started yelling at me that I was a freak” Emma shrugs and the painful smile on her face isn’t fooling either one of them.

"Needless to say, I wasn’t invited to their house again.”

"Emma” Regina sighs ruefully and shakes her head. Her heart squeezes at the thought of Emma this hurt over something she can’t control. Having your heart broken is always hard, but enduring this pain is harder as a teen, and probably close to unbearable when the rejection is based on prejudice; is much harsher and aimed towards an already insecure youngster.

"She ended up telling some of the kids at my school” the blonde continues “and you know how bullies are, they love an easy target.”

She definitely knows, probably more than Emma thinks she does.

"What did you do?”

"At first, nothing. Then it got too much and I decided that it had to stop. I wanted to take martial arts classes, to learn how to defend myself. Or at least to look like I do so they’ll back off a little.”

"That was smart of you”

"Yeah”

"Did they offer classes in your school” a head shake. “In your home?”

That earns her a snort.

“As if. You know how sometimes when you want to join a gym you can have a week’s trial?”

"Mhm”

"So I did just that. Only I kept going to the gym without paying until I got caught and asked to pay, and then I would move on to the next one.”

"That’s awful, I’m sorry you had to go to such lengths in order to protect yourself.”

"It’s okay. I don’t necessarily like the way I was treated by people and life in general as a child, but it got me to where I am, so I can’t really fully regret it either. I ended up in David’s parents’ gym and they didn’t kick me out once it was time to. They let me do all kinds of shit in the place like organize the mattresses or get toilet paper for the bathroom in return for the classes. And once I actually had some stability in my workout regime and trainers I started to show some talent, so they kept training me until I was practically an instructor.”

"And then you started working there” Regina fills in.

"Yes, but for the first few months I got another job as a barista and refused to take any money from them. It was my way of giving back to them for taking me under their wing”

"That’s very considerate of you.”

"Eh” Emma is quick to dismiss “It’s nice of them to have taken me in in the first place. They didn’t owe me anything.”

"Well,” Regina clears her throat and a trace of a smile washes over her features. “It was nice of you to make room for me in the class I wanted when I came by.”

The blonde seems to weigh her words before replying with “You looked like you needed it.” she shrugs, and Regina’s body is overcome with gratefulness and some other emotions she isn’t willing to pinpoint at that moment; not when Emma is this close, and especially not that vulnerable, so she settles with-

"I did.”

  


***

  


She shoots up, scared and disoriented. Her hands move automatically to push the blanket away but find nothing but the clothes on her body.

Confused and alarmed she searches frantically for anything familiar around her.

There’s movement next to her followed by a groan.

Her heart, which has been beating furiously beforehand, speeds up to an inhuman tempo all while her chest seems to constrict and block her airways. At a loss of what to do, almost blindly she tries to scramble away and ends up banging her head forcefully against a hard surface.

The noise that escapes her mouth due to the pain and the surprise is like the sound of a trapped animal.

Not knowing where or with whom she is and feeling utterly vulnerable and rubbed from any shred of control she might have had, the brunette curls herself as tightly as she can into a fetus position on the floor, shaking as panic washes over every single inch of her body.

"Regina?”

Her harsh breaths turn into sobbing.

"Regina?”

"Go away!” she rasps out, voice breaking completely mid-sentence.

She hears rustling sounds and then soft tapping of feet against the marble floor.

"Go away, go away, go away” she mumbles frantically to herself, not even sure who she’s talking to or if at all.

The light is on, and she squints at the sudden change.

"Regina” someone calls again, softly.

She doesn’t respond, and presses her shaking form into the hard surface behind her.

There are hands around her, pulling her to a sitting position.

"Don’t touch me” she screeches, trying to blink the tears away to see more clearly.

"It’s fine, it’s me.” a voice whispers quietly in her ears, and the hands remain firmly around her, even when she trashes in an attempt to free herself.

"It’s just me, Emma. Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re okay.”

_You’re okay_.

These two words, the ones she tells herself every time this happens, sink in, echoing through her body and she stops fighting.

"It’s alright Regina, I’m here.”

She’s pulled onto a surface significantly softer and warmer than the floor and then engulfed in a tight hug. The smell of skin surrounding her is overwhelmingly comforting, and the tight hold she’s being held in ceases to feel smothering and begins to calm her down.

When her legs start protesting at the position she’s in she moves them so that they’re on both side of Emma while remaining in her lap. It’s much easier to hug her then, to flush their bodies together.

She closes her eyes and lets herself be hugged.

"Urgh” she hisses when firm fingers press the throbbing spot in her head.

"Regina, you need to ice it” Emma says quietly, her mouth right next to Regina’s ear. “It’s already swelling.”

"No, don’t go” she pleads, hands tightening around Emma’s form, feeling the muscles underneath spasm and her lungs rising and deflating.

"But-”

"No!” the plea is desperate and hurt and might just be enough.

Emma’s quiet for a stretched moment before murmuring “Fine”

She starts moving and before Regina can protest, gets up while Regina still clings to her torso tightly. She bounces Regina slightly up so the brunette can properly wrap her legs around her waist and moves towards the kitchen.

"Do you have ice?”

"Mhm?” the brunette responds, sounding as she feels, exhausted and out of it.

"Ice?”

"No”

"Alright” the blonde says and opens the freezer in search of a substitute. She releases a small triumphant sound, fishes out a frozen bag of broccoli and places it gently on the bump.

"Mm!” Regina protests into her shoulder but remains still.

"I know, but you have to.” Emma responds calmly to the unspoken reluctance.

She heads out of the kitchen and towards the living room, but instead of sitting on the couch she continues on to Regina’s bedroom. She pulls the blanket away and places Regina down gently. The brunette grabs her hand tightly, brown eyes looking up at her pleadingly.

"I’m not going anywhere,” she assures and presses the frozen bag back on Regina’s head “I just want you to lie down.”

Regina keeps staring at her, and maybe it’s the alcohol in her blood or being woken up completely shaken that has her asking-

"Why are you doing this?”

"Doing what?” Emma responds, perplexed.

"Being so good to me.”

Emma takes her sweet time answering the question and Regina is halfway in the process of mentally crawling back into her shell when she finally speaks up.

"Don’t you think I know what it’s like to get up in the middle of the night, petrified and alone?” she asks, and her free hand moves to push a few strands of loose hair away from Regina’s face, leaning even closer as she does. She makes sure their eyes are locked before saying determinedly “No one deserves to go through that alone, certainly not you.”

Regina stares at her intently, noting the blonde lashes and the green irises and how they turn almost gray in the center. Then, she finds herself staring at Emma’s lips, wordlessly asking the blonde to lean in and kiss her. She doesn’t have the time or mental capacity to acknowledge what a big step it is, the fact that she actually wants to be kissed, that she is even thinking of a romantic and a physical thing in a positive sense, instead of being repulsed by it.

She won’t be the one to initiate, but she wants Emma to kiss her, and so her eyes alternate between the blonde’s eyes and lips, lips parting slightly in a silent plea.

She frowns moments later, when nothing but intense, meaningful staring happens between the two of them. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but to her it looks like Emma wants it as well. What she can’t figure out is why it is not happening.

Before she can find the words to voice it out loud, Emma breaks out of whatever bubble they’ve created and smiles down at her. Regina’s breath gets caught in her throat when Emma gets up, but she soon calms down when she realizes all the blonde does is circle the bed in order to climb in on the other end.

With her back leaning against the headboard, Emma takes the bag of the now not so frozen broccoli away from her and places it on the night stand.

"Try to get some sleep” she urges, hand placed on Regina’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’m right here.”

Despite being afraid that the momentary leap of courage she seems to possess, may it be due to the adrenaline caused by the last few minutes or the remains of the alcohol in her system and her close and utterly intoxicating proximity to Emma, will fade, the exhaustion takes over and soon enough her eyes gloss over, and she’s fast asleep, a warm hand anchoring her.

  


***

  


She wakes up after what could be an hour, or two. Or three.

The room is mostly dark and she remains still, assessing the situation as she slowly regains her senses. Eyes opening to slits, she lets out a breath when she spots Emma’s sleeping form; head lolled to the side as her chest going up and down, her features mostly peaceful.

Regina stares at the small furrow of the blonde’s brow that seems to hang around even in her sleep, her hands twitching as she fights the urge to run a thumb and softly smooth it over. Her eyes scan the woman, insatiable and almost thrilled at the opportunity to memorize each and every line of her face without the risk of being caught.

It’s satisfying and scary at the same time, how much Regina is drawn to Emma Swan.

She’s torn, feeling the mixed emotions fighting for dominance. Unable to simply sit there and let that happen, she gently rises from the plush mattress, draws the blanket over Emma’s sleeping form and pats quietly out of the room.

With a warm cup of tea in hand and a wall separating them, Regina tries to clear her head. The previous, or maybe still not previous, night is slightly blurry, the emotions pouring over and tainting the sharpness of the facts, leaving her heaving with the sensations instead.

Her hands tighten around the mug and she breathes through her nose and out of her mouth several time until her heartbeat seems to slow a little.

  


“ _Who are you looking at?” came from behind her, making her jump. Her alcohol infused brain still managed to work, if a little slowly, before she cleared her throat and responded with-_

_"The guy at the bar, near the wall”_

_He was close enough to whom she was really looking at, or at least so she hoped._

_"Oh” Kathryn murmured, sounding a little surprised. “I didn’t know assholes were your type.” she giggled, a little tipsy herself, while Regina had been trying and failing to fight the warmness that spread across her cheeks. It’s humiliation and fear of getting caught, even by her best friend, that was burning in her face, but Kathryn contributed it to attraction._

_"His name is Brandon, by the way” she provided, eyeing her best friend knowingly and noting with delight the darkening of her blushing even further, happy that Regina seemed to finally come across a guy she found interesting._

_"Mm” she hummed, eyes following a target standing so close to him it actually looked like she was looking at Brandon._

_"I know him” Kathryn said nonchalantly “I can introduce you” she offered, laughing when spotting Regina’s round eyes. “Oh, come on” she snickered “you’ll have to make a move at some point.”_

_"Isn’t that what guys are for?” she pointed out defensively, knowing well that gender has nothing to do with who approaches whom first, and that Kathryn wasn’t going to appreciate that remark._

_"Ha. Very funny.” the blonde folded her hands, looking less than amused at that statement._

_Regina sighed “You know I'm kidding right?”_

_"I just don’t understand why you have to get so defensive when you find someone you like. You’re in college, it’s time you let loose a little.”_

_She groaned in response and downed the rest of her drink, immediately ordering another one. And it may have taken her a few more weeks, but one night, when Kathryn was visiting home, she had gotten positively drunk and dared to lock eyes with the one she had been looking at that night and the ones that followed. And it’s numerous drinks later, until she’s barely in control of herself but finally a little less guarded, that she let that girl take her by the hand to the bathroom and kissed her until there was blood pumping in her ears._

_The action remained unrepeated, and years of repression later she made a decision to close that Pandora box and not approach it again. Despite feasting her eyes on occasions, she remained true to her words and kept her hands out of the cookie jar._

She blinks rapidly when she’s finally shaken from the memory, thighs slightly pressed together and breaths short and sharp. Her eyes land on the part of the wall where she knows the blonde is sleeping against on the other side. Frowning as her mind tentatively approaches and opens the door to that sealed part in her mind. And for the first time in years, she lets herself consider women, after stubbornly and cowardly deciding to stick with the safer side of her attraction, she decides that maybe it’s time acknowledge the second half.

  



	19. Getting There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Here I am again, late, but at least here :) Found myself incredibly moved, happy and motivated by swen’s victory in March madness. So good to see we’re still out there!
> 
> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think, could really use the push :)

 

**Chapter 19-**

**Getting There**

  


"Regina” Archie says, his tone enough to project all of his urges to her in one word. _Breath_ _e_ _. It’s okay. Take your time._

"I know” she sighs, rubbing her face anxiously as uneasiness washes over her, simply at the prospect of talking about this topic. She doesn't have to talk about it, Archie has no way of knowing that this is coming and won’t ask her about it if she ends up folding. But the days following the night with Emma left her itchy in the most uncomfortable of ways. 

"When-” she starts and her voice breaks on the first word. Bouncing her right leg, she takes a breath and tries again. “When is it normal to get back to-- to start thinking about being with, you know,” her slightly shaking hand twists her necklace again and again and it’s a surprise the delicate jewelry doesn't rip under the rough and repetitive, almost obsessive, ministrations. “People?”

She looks at him pleadingly and he smiles warmly and nods.

"I assume you mean dating, or having any romantic or physical connection with someone.” he promotes.

"Yes” she swallows, face heating up. “When is it normal, or recommended to-- to start thinking or feeling something of this sort?”

She avoids eye contact until she hears his laughter, and then she’s helpless to her offended gaze shifting up to meet his.

"Regina” he shakes his head and she looks carefully for any sign of mockery but finds none. “You know better than to ask that question.” he reprimands gently.

She deflates a little and nods. She knows there isn’t one rule applying to such diverse group of people, each and every person goes through a different experience, heals in a different pace and uses different measures to do so.

"I guess what I’m trying to ask is if it’s healthy for me to be entertaining this subject considering where I am in the process.” She stares at him for what feels like a nerve wrecking minute before his lips quirk up and he looks at her intently, bemused.

"Have you met someone?” he asks at last, and the warmness on her cheeks spreads to the upper part of her neck and is it suddenly very warm in the room or is it just her?

"I guess you could say that” she clears her throat, fighting to keep her gaze from casting down. She’s not an awkward teenager, not anymore, and there’s no reason to feel shy about those type of things.

"And you’re physically attracted to them.” he says and she grimaces and shakes her head and then nods and then shakes it again.

"Not really, I mean yes,” she starts, running a hand through her hair twice before continuing. “But it’s not just physical, it didn’t originate from physical attraction.”

"So emotional then?” he asks and she nods curtly. “And what made you feel the need to raise that question to me?”

"I’m not sure,” her hands fist in her lap and then she sighs. “I guess I just don’t want to start something and end up causing damage to the both of us. Not that there is anything happening yet but...” she trails off, glancing sideways, and looking up when Archie laughs again.

"Are you-” he pushes his glasses upwards, looking beyond amused. “You do realize that you are you asking me if you’re allowed to feel?”

There’s a moment of silence before Regina releases a snort, that soon turns to a chuckle, and then they’re laughing together and it’s the most carefree and authentic and not constricting that she has felt in a very long time.

"Regina” he breathes out, the remains of their shared laughter lacing each and every syllable. “If you think it and you feel it, you’re ready. You and I both know that your guarded personality had tested this person and that connection countless times until you even allowed yourself to consider acknowledging these thoughts.”

And it’s so utterly true that her breath gets caught in her throat when she lets herself accept and appreciate just _how_ much Archie knows her.

  


***

  


That’s all she thinks about the following days. So engrossed in her thoughts that she would completely still; lie in her bed and stare at nothing in particular, or sit, so motionless, on a bench in the park that a bird actually lands on her thigh, completely comfortable and unafraid, staring at Regina as the latter just blinks, at a loss.

She thinks so hard that her brain hurts, that her eyes sting; staring intently, trying to see clearly, and then closing her eyes attempting to _understand,_ to make it all make sense.

She thinks back, the reach of the doubt grasping at what she considered sure knowledge for years; maybe she’s not really bisexual like she always thought she was. She ponders for hours at end, going through her entire romantic and sexual life. Or maybe she is and Emma is just _that_ compelling to her, _that_ important.

The brunette can’t remember feeling this drawn to anyone before. But on the other hand, she can’t recall ever reaching that level of trust and intimacy with anyone she dated, those traits were usually saved for friends rather than partners.

Her brow furrows at the realization that until now, knowingly or not, she made sure to keep some sort of a barrier to separate people from her, keep them at arm’s length; if they had her body, they weren’t about the receive her soul. 

It is not a matter of lack of emotions but quite the contrary. Regina felt strongly, about many things, just never seemed the link those same emotions to another human being. Yet now it seems like there’s a crack in that layer of defense. She’s almost overwhelmed by the affect of these emotions, at how her past relationships fade embarrassingly into a background noise when faced in front of what she’s currently experiencing.

Maybe it’s her emotional side finally developing and making up for her nearly dormant physical side. She considers that possibility for a quite some time as well. That leads her to doubting her feelings altogether. 

Maybe it’s not really attraction, but just a well masked, and even slightly contorted, need for support. Maybe Regina interprets her need for comfort as romantic feelings. The brunette can’t deny that Emma has a special spot in her already selective web of people, almost the only one to not offer herself in return to something else. They all care, but Archie is sort of inclined to, being her therapist, and Katelyn is there to listen when Regina comes to the library to help. To a person like Regina it can serve as quite a kick to her sense of confidence and stability. She doesn’t forget the circumstances in which she’s in, no matter how comfortable she may get. Emma is there and has been there, without wanting anything in return and it’s refreshing and scary and confusing and unbelievably moving all at the same time.

What if it really is a mere incapability to separate emotional platonic need and appreciation of the support rather than something more romantically inclined? Or worse, what if it _is_ romantically inclined? What if Regina starts something, Regina, who nowadays can barely hold herself to the most basic of tasks, and falls through with it? What will happen to their friendship? How can their dynamic ever stay the same? How can she keep Emma in her life if she acted on her feelings and it didn’t work? How can she keep her if it _does_ work? How can she not keep her if it comes to that?

The inner turbulence threatens the drown Regina in it and she’s helpless to what course of action she should take next, to which person to turn to and pour her heart. And she becomes so frustrated, at how something positive like being able to feel again has turned into an internal hell.

  


***

  


"Okay, you need to spill it out”

"Sorry?” Regina looks up once shaken out of her intense yet aimless staring into nothingness.

"What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Katelyn asks and takes a sit in front of her, hands resting on the brunette’s thighs, surprisingly comforting. “Or maybe I should ask what’s not on your mind?”

Regina chuckles ruefully and sighs.

"I don’t even know where to starts” she admits “I don’t even know if I want to start.”

"I see.” Katelyn nods, her expression thoughtful. “Who are they?” she asks.

"Who are who?”

"Whoever has your stomach in a knot?”

"I’m… what?” Regina swallows and looks up the old librarian, gauging the woman in front of her.

"Come on” she urges, laughing. “I ain’t going to tell anyone, spare an old woman and throw her a bone or two. It has been quite a while since I had anyone making me this distracted and confused.” she shakes her head and winks at Regina, still smiling.

"It’s not-- I’m not really--” she shakes her head, feeling exposed. She chews her lip for a good minute or so before blurting “How did you know?”

"I think 74 years are enough for me to be considered experienced in the walks of life. Don’t get confused honey, it is always people. People are the cause for everything truly important and sometimes bothersome to us. I didn’t see you almost walk into a table after quitting your job, but you can be quite distracted after certain events on your schedule.” she states knowingly and, was it really that obvious to anyone but her all this time?

"Look, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, although you’re always welcome to do so. But do talk to someone. Getting things off your chest is important. You can’t keep it all in, and certainly can’t observe the situation objectively enough when you’re a part of it. Find someone you can trust and confide in them. It’s very comfortable to think that we can handle everything by ourselves, easier that way, but sometimes the most effective and accurate point of view comes from an outsider.”

  


***

  


_Kathryn- What’s up?_

_Regina- I tried calling earlier, went straight to voice mail…_

_Kathryn- Sorry, I’m swamped with meetings today._

_Regina- Oh okay. Call me when you’re free?_

_Kathryn- How about you wait two days? I’m coming to the city._

_Regina- Really? I didn’t know._

_Kathryn- Very last minute. I’ll tell you once I get there. In the meantime, stop distracting me, I’m missing very interesting statements from our human resource department._

_Regina- Really?_

_Kathryn- No_

The brunette laughs out loud at that, shaking her head at her best friend’s obvious displease and grumpiness. She misses it so very much, misses sitting with her in those meetings and bitch about everything and everyone.

_She scanned the room, disinterested and bored already, and tried to look as uninviting as possible. She hated those corporate type of gatherings and inevitable small talks that came with them. A small smile lightened her features when her eyes landed on her best friend as the latter stepped into room, or more like spilled into it._

_Regina lifted her hand and signaled the blonde to come over. Kathryn sent her a mischievous smile while approaching the last row._

_"What did you do?” the brunette asked immediately, she would recognizes that expression half asleep._

_Kathryn, in turn, moved the jacket previously held in front of her torso to reveal a plate filled with deliciously smelling goods._

_"How?” Regina started, already reaching for a croissant._

_"A board meeting, wait, no, negotiations on the executive floor.” she announced triumphantly._

_"And who gave you that Intel?” Regina chuckled in between bites, eyes following Kathryn as she sat down next to her._

_"My nose”_

_Their laughter died as soon as a suited man stepped to the front of the room, smiling politely at the rows and rows of lawyers who were forced out of their offices in order to participate in this pointless seminar._

_"Hello everybody, how are you all doing?”_

_"At least he’s nice to look at” Kathryn shrugged, her words assimilated in the murmurs of hello’s and other generic responses._

_"Damn right he is” Regina hummed while still scanning the man._

_"Oh! Did I tell you what Sharon said to me the other day about Dan from paralegal?”_

_"No” the brunette responded, leaning into the Kathryn as the blonde shared the latest office gossip._

  


Her phone chimes again and she grabs it, snorting at the pair of words that appear on the screen.

_Kathryn- Kill me._

  


***

  


She isn’t really sure what posses her to do it at that moment. 

Maybe it’s a temporary loss of sanity, or just plain frustration at the pasta that stuck to the bottom of the pan despite the endless stirs. Maybe she just has enough of it, and just doesn’t want to evade it anymore as it doesn’t look like it’s going away anytime soon.

Whatever the reason may be, she picks up her phone, takes a deep breath and accepts the call.

"Hello” she says, unbothered by the awfully long silence that follows her greeting.

"Regina?” he finally says, his tone shocked and unbelieving as it is hopeful.

"Yes?” she answers a little too curtly. 

"I’m sorry I’m just a little surprised, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up.” he confesses, still very much confused and caught off-guard, despite being the one who called.

"Yet you kept calling” she states, surprisingly calm and collected.

His choked laughter has her rolling her eyes.

"Robin,” she sighs “What do you want?” she asks, making her tone as soft and as least antagonizing as she can manage. She needs to find the right balance so that the message comes across. There aren’t any unresolved emotions and thoughts between them, whatever they are, or were, is very much over. She needs to engage in the conversation just enough to convince him of that but not too much so that he is able to convince himself that there is still something there.

Robin’s a good guy, she truly likes him, but he can be quite dense when the situation unfolds in a different way than he’s anticipated it.

"You disappeared” is what he ends up saying, and she regrets to spot the barely there traces pain in his voice. He still feels for her, and it really is a shame, mainly since she now realizes that she didn’t feel a thing for him at any point along the way.

"That’s what happens when two people decide to split.” she provides, her voice neutral, impersonal even.

"How are you?” he asks, and Regina decides to spare him just a few more moments.

"I’m good” she swallows, ignoring the resisting part of her that does not agree with that statement.

"Good, good...” he mumbles “Haven’t really seen you around”

"That’s because I moved.”

"You did?”

"Mmm”

"Where?”

She pauses before deciding that there isn’t much he can do with this information anyway. “New York”

"Really? Why New York?”

"Needed a change of scenery, I guess” she replies absentmindedly, fingers brushing the wrinkles of her pants, over and over, until her pads almost tickle from the numbness.

"Yeah, I get it. So what are you doing there?”

"At the moment, not much.”

"No work?” he asks incredulously and she chuckles lightly. Robin had known only one side of her. A very major one, that is, but still a side. In Chicago, especially around the time they started dating, Regina was all about her work. Now, she can spot all the red flags clearly, burying herself in cases and completely avoiding personal life. Did she really think she could just overwork her way through life? At some point her complete devotion would have gotten her to the top, and then what? At some point, other people would have done the leg work for her, argue in courts in her name. She wouldn’t be needed at the office until midnight, or won’t have half a dozen of cases to prep to on those occasions in which she does come home early. Life had to be more than that, and now, that she’s stripped out of many of her dealing mechanisms and little ‘tricks’ on how to never face her personal life, she realizes that there’s much more to who she is and what she is bound to do in this world than just work. 

"I’m taking a little break, reassessing my career path.”

"Oh. Well, if that’s what works for you, by all means...”

"And you, how are you doing?” she finds herself asking, genuinely interested. This conversation, weirdly enough, seems to clear more things in her head than her last few days of pondering had. Perhaps closure is good for her, like Archie suggested, to help her truly understand how much she has changed and accept those changes.

"I’ve been doing okay. I got a promotion...” he says, moving on to talk a little about his work and ongoing coworkers’ feuds.

"Well,” she says, hands clasping in her hand automatically as she moves to end the conversation. “Thank you for calling Robin, I hope this helped you ease your mind a little.”

Robin clears his throat uncomfortably before trying one last time.

"Are you sure there’s nothing I can do that would change your mind?”

"I’m afraid not”

"Are you happy?” his question promotes a small, silent gasp. Just a parting of lips. She’s quiet for a stretched moment, until she is one with her reply.

"I’m getting there.”


	20. A Promise Unbroken

**Chapter 20-**

**A promise unbroken**

  


April rolled in and with it occasional blessed days of sunlight, warm breeze and the faint refreshing smell of flowers as they slowly began to fill the concrete city.

As much as Regina found comfort in the winter, the excessive amounts of layers and the valid justification it provided for her to stay in the apartment, she couldn’t help but admit that the spring making its way to the city hasn’t skipped her heart and mind. Taking long strolls in the park and absorbing the sun seemed to be doing her good, feeding her positivity she can’t recall possessing in quite some time. She often wondered if the city was indeed prettier during this time of the year or if she had just started to see the world in a lighter way again.

Her talk with Robin may have helped her get some closure on that end, but also left her frowning; it seems as if everything is the same. It shouldn’t really be a surprise to her, yet it does stand in utter contradiction to the amount of changes she had gone through. On a surface level it shouldn’t matter to her, she had moved on with her life, moved away from the environment that had been toxic for her, even if excluding that one night. But she can’t really let it go, that deeper rueful understanding that if everything’s is the same, it includes the people, and their actions. It includes Leonard.

Her mind takes her back to her last meeting with Archie, in which he brought up, not for the first time, the topic of Regina’s future actions. She knows she should consider pressing charges against Leonard, even if just to put his actions, his behavior, on record so he can be held accountable. Like Archie said, he could be doing the same thing to another woman at that moment. It’s not as if anything in Regina’s behavior could have shaken him to realize the severity of his actions, and even if so, she doubts it would have caused him to cease this sort of behavior. If asked what she thinks, Regina would stand by her opinion, that Leonard probably doesn’t even consider his actions as hurtful, wrong, and violating. He isn’t going to stop on his own. She truly believes that given the right opportunity or seeing the ‘right’ woman would push him to do it again. That thought is the only thing stopping Regina from burying that night so deep in her soul it would be forgotten. Or at least trying to.

As much as she hates to accept it, despite not being the active side in this whole ordeal, despite not being the one forcing herself on someone, Regina is also responsible. She is responsible, despite the immense difficulty she experiences thinking and talking about this topic, to make his actions known. He does not deserve walking away from what he did untouched, she should not be the only one paying the price, especially since it’s his deed.

Regina still has a lot to come to terms with, a lot left to figure out and accept. She still feels incredibly confused, insecure and guilty about what had transpired that night, still isn’t comfortable calling it a rape. Not just due to the harshness of the word but due to her inability to look up and say wholeheartedly that it wasn’t her fault. She will forever ponder her actions that night, or perhaps her lack of action. She will forever try to determine whether she was firm enough in her refusal or not. But like Archie stressed passionately multiple times, even if she feels that way, which he doesn’t agree with, Regina still has to come forward with her story as it could help prevent the next one.

It frustrates her to no end, the fact that she, the victim, has to be the responsible one, has to think about others after what she had gone through. She doesn’t want to live that night again, but in a sense she is forced to, just like then, by herself more than anyone else. As if she doesn’t have enough on her shoulders, now she has to carry that responsibility as well, has to hear to clock ticking in her head, counting each and every second that goes by with her move unmade, the words unvoiced, charges unpressed. And the hardest thing is that in all that mess of casualties and whole life abandoned, she still finds herself thinking about him, taking him into consideration. Because those few words uttered in front of an officer, scribbled on a police report, would change his life forever. And truth is subjective. Actions aren’t, they either happen or not. Yet she could never truly, wholeheartedly, confidently know, what he was thinking in those moments, and what was his truth, is his truth.

She’s still deep in thought when a hand squeezes her shoulder, making her jump.

"Jeez Kathryn” she breathes out and places a hand on where her wildly beating heart is. “you scared the shit out of me.”

"Sorry” the blonde winces, evidently apologetic as she bends to hug Regina. “I called your name like five times.”

"Oh”

"You seemed pretty in it, whatever this it was. Are you okay?” the blonde asks gently, her hand still on the brunette’s shoulder, grounding her.

"Yeah, yeah.” Regina is quick to dismiss, gaze averting from her friend's. This topic is still too sensitive and unresolved to approach just yet. “Just thinking about... things.”

Kathryn nods, choosing to accept her answer as is. “Well, I'm here if you ever want to talk. You know the drill...”

"I know,” she smiles in return. “Thank you”

They stand in silence for a minute or so, both concentrating on the green of the trees and the grass in front of them and how it kisses the blue of the lake. It’s the middle of a workday, and there isn’t much presence at the park. But in the middle of the lake, a single rowboat, the rental kind, and on it sit man and a woman, laughing loudly as they jokingly push the other. Regina’s lips quirk up at the sight.

“So” Regina clasps her hands in front of her body and turns to look at the blonde. “where does the tourist want to go?” she asks, smirk turning into a chuckle at the glare she receives from Kathryn.

"I’m not tourist, don’t call me that.”

"Well but you are” Regina retorts, amused, and catches up to Kathryn as she takes off.

"Not for long” Kathryn murmurs, smiling innocently at Regina when the latter turns to look at her.

"What was that?”

"What was what?”

"You said something.”

"Me? No.” Kathryn dismisses. “So, where do you want to head off to first? Hungry?”

  


***

  


"So, you said you’re here for work?” Regina calls from the kitchen, walking slowly towards the living room while balancing two full mugs.

"No, not really” Kathryn replies, her gaze following Regina as she places them carefully on the table and takes a seat next to the blonde.

"Oh? Then why are you here, you said it was last minute?” the brunette inquires, a frown gracing her features. She was absolutely positive it was related to work, or else why would Kathryn come to the city on such a short notice?

"Yeah, well it wasn’t really last minute. I mean, I planned it for a while but made up my a few days ago.”

"Okay...” Regina prompts, waiting for her friends to elaborate.

"I came here for two reasons. The first, and I can’t believe you still hadn’t figured it out” the blonde shakes her head disbelievingly. “Is because it’s your freaking birthday tomorrow. Did you really think I would miss it?” she asks, laughing at Regina’s caught off guard expression. “Did you forget?”

"Of course not” Regina huffs in return, obviously she wouldn’t forget her own birthday, she is just surprised to find the Kathryn came all to way from Chicago for this. But then again, she vaguely remembers her 25th birthday celebration in Mexico, where a drunken Kathryn and her vowed to always do birthdays together. Which, she realizes now, years later, is still a promise unbroken. Either way, that action truly moves her, and her eyes water just a little when she smiles at her best friend. She does not take for granted anyone remembering her birthday, and much less making an effort to be there for her.

"Are you getting emotional? Oh ‘Gina!” Kathryn charges forward and hugs her tightly. “You know I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

"I know, I just didn’t really expect you to come over here… It’s still a surprise” she mumbles quietly, hands tightening around the blonde’s form as Kathryn does the same.

"Kids are mean.” she states knowingly and Regina hums in agreement. Kathryn knows about Regina’s rocky social life growing up. The brunette was never short of disappointments and struggles, and birthdays weren’t an exception.

"What’s the other reason?” she asks, ever the curious, when they part.

"You’ll have to wait and see.” Kathryn smiles smugly at her and glances at her watch. “In the meantime, you should start getting ready, we’re going out to dinner.”

"We are?”

"We are. Dress nicely” she calls after Regina with a grin firmly placed. “Guess who’s coming”

  


***

  


"How did you even get Emma’s number?” Regina asks as they get out of the cab.

"I have my methods”

"Fred”

"Excuse me? it’s not just my husband that has supreme detective skills.” Kathryn puffs her chest proudly, making Regina snort.

"Okay, you tell yourself that...” she says, knowing exactly what buttons to push. And as expected, the blonde slaps her shoulder lightly a moment later.

"Shut up.”

They enter the restaurant, splitting when Kathryn approaches the hostess while Regina remains in her spot and opts on scanning the place. Her gaze casts down to scan her outfit one last time. She takes a deep breath and removes her jacket, partially regretting her decision to choose this day to fight her so far unchallenged rule when it comes to her dress code. She isn’t wearing a turtleneck for the first time in months, but quite a form fitting dress. One of her best really, snug and appealing but elegant. This dress was one of her greater assets while working as a lawyer in Chicago, back at the time she appreciated and enjoyed the attention, even if she didn’t necessarily want or ask for it. As she repeated to herself since the minute she put it on, she’s here with maybe the two people she trusts the most, for various reasons. If this isn’t the chance to celebrate not only her birthday, but the fact that she actually wanted to dress up tonight, then she doesn't know what is.

"May I take your coat, ma'am?” A kind middle age man asks politely. She wants to say no, wants to take her coat with her to the table in case she finds it unbearable and decides to cover herself up. But her hand moves automatically and before she registers it, she’s handing it over and the man scurries away.

She sighs and rubs her slightly sweaty palms on her thighs.

"Our table is ready” Kathryn announces.

"Go ahead” Regina instructs and tilts her head towards the bar. “I’ll just go check if Emma’s here yet”

"Sure” Kathryn says with a smile and moves towards where she presumes is their assigned table. Regina, in turn, heads towards the opposite side, where the bar is. She spots a blonde woman, whose silhouette is looking like it might be Emma’s. She approaches the woman tentatively and stretches her neck just a little to indeed confirm that this is Emma.

"Hi” she greets.

"Hey” Emma returns cheerfully and hops off the chair effortlessly. “Happy birthday, Ms. Said-nothing-about-it.” she jabs jokingly and gives Regina a hug. She steps back and scans the brunette. “You look great” she says eventually, locking eyes with Regina in a way that has them both swallowing just for a moment.

"Thank you, so are you.” she replies honestly, taking in Emma’s athletic form, wonderfully clad in tight dotted slacks and a crisp white button up. Emma’s hair is up in a messy ponytail and it is maybe the best that Regina has ever seen her look.

"Where’s Kathryn?”

"She’s at the table. I can’t believe she did this behind my back” Regina shakes her head as they move towards the awaiting blonde.

"I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Emma counters, her hand placed on Regina’s lower back as they navigate through the sea of chairs and tables.

"I’m not a fan of birthdays.” the brunette shrugs.

"Not a fan of birthdays or of your birthday?” Emma asks, being as perceptive as ever when it comes to Regina.

"My birthday” she admits.

"Well, we’ll have to change it then.” Emma promises with wink just as they reach the table. She steps behind one of the chairs and pulls it, signaling Regina to sit with her hand. The brunette takes a seat and smiles at Emma as the blonde sits down next to her, their gazes still locked, while Kathryn watches the ordeal with a smug smile and uncontrollable urge to drag the pair and lock them in a small closet, ironically so, until they do something about it.

  


***

  


"Kathryn!” Regina reprimands, making sure to send her best friend a matching look for the complete effect.

"What?” Kathryn responds, allegedly innocent. Kathryn knows very well what she’s doing, but from the looks of it, she wants to be reprimanded verbally and in front of Emma. Well then, so be it.

"I don’t understand why you got into ‘embarrassing Regina in front of someone else’ mood. You’re not even drunk.” she accuses, lifting her second – or is it third? – glass of wine while maintaining eye contact with her friend. “You didn’t even order a drink, what’s up with that?” she frowns. Kathryn is always up for a drink, always, and yet tonight, when Regina is actually willing and is engaging in the whole drinking thing, she chooses not to participate?

"I told you, I just don’t feel like drinking tonight.” Kathryn responds, making Regina snort in response.

"When, when have you ever not felt like drinking?” Regina sasses back, arching a skeptic eyebrow to the sound of Emma’s chuckle. Something is definitely up with her best friend and she’s going to get to the bottom of it. Perhaps she’ll do it when they’re alone, just in case it is personal, but she might as well enjoy it right now.

"I’m changing my life around” she shrugs, and Regina tilts her head back and laughs loudly.

"Bullshit, I don’t believe you.” she determines and jokingly lifts a napkin to dab at the corner of her eyes. This is the funniest thing she’s heard in a while, coming from a woman who would gladly sustain herself on Ramen noodles and wine for the rest of her life if asked to.

"You don’t have to believe me, but I’m telling you that I am.” Kathryn shrugs and Regina narrows her eyes and scans her friend’s face, searching for a crack in the facade. “Trying to be healthier.” her friend reasons.

"Hmm” she hums thoughtfully and taps a single finger on her lips. “So, have you cut your caffeine intake as well then?”

"Pfff, as if” Kathryn scoffs, much to Emma’s amusement. The blonde seems to enjoy the back and forth between the two old friends, as she gets to see a whole new, and much more playful, side to Regina.

"You see? Liar.” the brunette points at Kathryn and the latter folds her hands defiantly in response to that claim.

"What does that have to do with anything?” she murmurs, defeated.

"How about you come up with a better lie?” Regina suggests, as nonchalantly as it gets, and Emma snorts and shakes her head.

"I didn’t know you were such cut-throat” Emma chuckles.

"Only the best for my dear, dear friend.” Regina sends her a playful smirk and raises the glass, motioning a toast, before downing its content.

"Whoa,” Kathryn lifts her hands up in a warning motion, still very much into their little banter. It has been quite a while since Regina showed any signs of letting loose and having fun, and she definitely approves, even if it’s on her expanse. “You might want to take it slow there tiger, or we would have a repeat of that night you got hammered in college” she finishes with a genuine careless laugh. “Oh yeah,” she responds to Emma’s questioning look. “Our friend here wasn’t always like that. She was quite the nerd, believe it or not. And so naive!” she voices out in amusement, recalling those times. “And so, the nerdy version of our dear Regina had decided one night to temporarily take out the stick she had in her ass. Assigned from birth of course” she winks at Emma and masterfully dodges Regina’s slap. “And go out and see what the ‘college experience’ is all about. What a night.” she shakes her head at the memory.

"What happened?” Emma asks. She may not have been a verbal participant in the past few minutes, but she has been completely engaged and now curious about the night in which Regina apparently lost control, a concept that she would have to admit is definitely intriguing.

"Oh, not a chance!” Regina determines sharply, using her stern voice. She is positively not interested in Emma knowing about that night. Not that she remembers much of it. Kathryn probably remembers more than she does, which is exactly what scares her most.

"Oh yes a chance” Kathryn counters and focuses her attention on Emma, completely unfazed by Regina’s intimidation tactics by now. “Anyway, as I was saying” she starts, ignoring Regina’s huff and then wave for the waiter to get her another glass of glass of wine.


	21. You're Welcome

**Chapter 21-**

**You’re Welcome**

  


"So, birthday girl,” Emma turns to look at her, a smile lightening up her entire face, and gently bumps her shoulder against Regina’s. “anything else you want to do, or should we call it a night?”

Not long after she decided to go forward with telling Emma about Regina’s night of bad decisions, Kathryn excused herself to go to the bathroom. When she returned a few minutes later her face was significantly paler than before, and they decided it was time to go. Conveniently enough, and probably previously planned and thought of, if you ask Regina, the restaurant wasn’t far from where Kathryn was staying. Dragging Kathryn to Regina’s apartment just to go back to where they came from was futile and so Kathryn was let off the hook, not before promising to keep Regina updated about how she was feeling. Emma offered to accompany Regina back to her place, and Regina, with her mind foggy from the wine and more at peace with herself and her emotions in quite a while, agreed without much resistance. If she’s honest, the brunette didn’t really want the night to end just yet. For the first time in a long time she was genuinely enjoying herself.

They decide to walk back.

On this warmer than usual spring night, while the air is still quite chilly, it also feels like a waste not to take advantage of the nicer weather. It’s the inevitable effect of places that host harsh, cold, light-less winters for a good portion of the year; you learn to appreciate the way the sun caresses the skin, the way the warm air almost hugs the body and the soul, the distinctive ticklish sensation the nose experiences as flowers start to bloom, the glow of sweaty skin or the rosy taint that spreads on people’s cheeks, a faint blush caused by the rays. And so, even though they’re not there just yet, the promise of what to come raises a small smile on Regina’s face and she narrows her eyes in an attempt to spot buds whenever they pass a bush or a tree. She finds that she quite likes the cold air as it hits her heated face, serving as a calming, almost relieving, effect on the warm redness the wine has granted her skin with. She takes a deep breath and allows the dry cold air to fill her lungs, sighing as it somehow makes its way to her head, sobering her in the best sense of the word.

She hums softly as she considers her options. Shoving her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat, she stares ahead. “I don’t want to call it a night yet.” she admits, feeling the blonde’s gaze on her. “I’m enjoying myself.”

"Glad to hear that” Emma grins in response, coming to a halt when they reach the entrance to Regina’s building. “What do you have in mind then? Do you want to find a bar nearby maybe?” she suggests, chuckling at the brunette’s quick refusal.

"Oh, definitely not” Regina shakes her head. She chews her lip for a moment, and then stares up at the blonde. “You can come up if you want, I bought beer.” she suggests as casually as she can. Despite the fact that she is now thinking in a certain direction when it comes to Emma, she does not want that to be the impression the blonde would be getting, she can’t simply assume the blonde is feeling the same way, even if it sometimes looks like it. 

"Uh, yeah sure.” is what Emma ends up saying, eyes flickering up to where Regina’s apartment is all while bouncing back and forth on her heels. The evident hesitation in her demeanor isn’t lost on Regina, and she is quick to offer her an out.

"You don’t have to if you don’t want to...”

"No, it’s not- not that. Sure, let’s go inside.” she determines and starts going up the stairs towards the entrance door while Regina’s still standing in her spot, slightly frowning as her eyes follow Emma. Regina is not good at reading people at any given circumstance, but even more so when she’s drunk; therefore, despite sensing an additional meaning in between the lines, she gives up trying to figure out what Emma actually meant and chooses to take her word for it instead; Partially because that outcome suits her will. She follows Emma into the building without another word.

  


***

  


"Can I get you anything to drink? A beer?” she asks from the kitchen, already grabbing her choice of beverage off its place on a shelf in the fridge.

"What are you having?”

"Wine.”

"Ew no.” Emma scrunches her nose and Regina chuckles.

"Beer then?”

"Yes, ma’am”

It’s Regina’s turn to make a face.

"Ma’am, really?”

Emma laughs. “It’s just a saying.”

"Still”

They move to the living room, both positioning themselves on the opposite ends of the couch, Emma nursing a beer and Regina already sipping from her glass of wine.

Her tipsiness didn’t really go away, but it has settled nicely with the food and the stroll in the fresh air. Now, with another glass in hand, the faint haze slips back gracefully, wrapping her head and body in a blanket of distant warmth and a light buzz.

Alcohol makes Regina honest; honest, direct and unafraid. It gives her serenity and calm confidence to approach or do things she might avoid sober. It’s almost as if the alcohol manages to only fight her walls down before it dissipates. She won’t do crazy things while drunk, just the things she wished she had the courage to being sober.

She lifts her gaze, staring into Emma’s eyes for a period much longer than she would ever feel comfortable with under any other circumstance. She smiles when what feels like minutes tick by and Emma remains fixated on her. She takes the last sip that empties the glass, places it gently on the table only to return to her previous position on the couch; this time she lets her head loll back into the sofa with a content sigh. Her body is completely turned to face Emma and she watches as the blonde does the same with her bottle of beer.

Regina finds herself staring at the blonde’s lips way too many times since they sat down, and yet nothing has happened on the other side of the couch. Regina was never good with initiating, which didn’t pose as a problem at all when the men usually would be the ones to take the lead. She _did_ know what ticked them off, though. Starting from long-held gazes, eyes dipping to lips and back, licking her lips and so on. Those moves were all put to display tonight but Emma remained in her place, engaging and noting, but not acting on them. A frown forms on the brunette’s face at that thought.

"What is it?” Emma asks, her voice soft yet clear in the otherwise silent apartment.

Regina shakes her head as she tries to assemble the right sentence but gives up and runs a not so steady hand through her hair instead.

"Regina” the blonde urges, lifting her head and sitting up straighter. “tell me.”

She stares into the distance for a moment before looking back at Emma.

"Do you find me attractive?” she asks bluntly, her tone and face neutral. Though not for long; A flash of hurt washes over her face when Emma’s response in nothing but a laugh.

"Are you serious?” she asks in return and shakes her head at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Yes” she answers, instantly losing the will to continue this conversation. She really did hope Emma fancied her in that sense, but maybe she was reading this whole thing wrong, making up signals in her head to match her own emotions.

"Of course I do” Emma answers and her face turn serious. “I can’t believe you even felt the need to ask.”

"So-” Regina scratches the back of her neck, caught off guard by that response. Her gaze wanders down for a moment before she looks back up, perplexed. “Did I not make it clear that I was, you know…” she clears her throat, uneasy, as heat spreads over her face. “interested?”

"You did” Emma confirms, face coloring with understanding.

"So why didn’t you, you know,” she breathes “kiss me the other night?”

Emma fidgets uncomfortably, running her hands multiple times through her hair before she brings herself to look at Regina. Her face is apologetic almost, and before she can speak up Regina catches up to her.

"Oh, I see.” she murmurs, mainly to herself, but loud enough that Emma hears it too. “ _You_ aren’t interested.”

"What? No!” Emma calls out, confusion and frustration evident in her tone and features. “Why would you say that?”

"Is it not true?”

"Not at all.” the blonde says pointedly and leans forward.

"So why didn’t you?” she folds her hands tightly against her chest, knowing she can’t hold that conversation in its current state much longer. Something decisive needs to happen, she needs to be charging forward or out of the room and preferably sooner than later. She needs acceptance or rejection. “Kiss me?”

Emma sighs shakily and shakes her head while her eyes flutter close, evidently feeling strongly about the situation. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I care about you, Regina, and what you’ve gone through is traumatic. I see how you flinch around people, I was there to witness how long it took you to lay your guard down just with me touching you, and in a very non-sexual way. So kissing you, even though I really _really_ want to” she shoots a meaningful look Regina’s way. “Is very selfish and insensitive of me. I would never do anything that might make you feel uncomfortable and even asking it seemed out of place. Besides, I wouldn’t want to assume anything regarding who you’re attracted to or how that area in your life has been affected by what happened.”

Regina quiets for a moment as she takes it all in. Confusion turns to comprehension and then determination. “Emma, me wanting you to kiss me has nothing to do with what happened. I need you to hear me and understand what I’m saying. I was into women before that, just very keen on suppressing it and I have my reasons that I’d like to keep to myself for now. And as appreciative as I am, and I really mean it, I am appreciative of how respecting and sensitive you are” she leans forwards, minimizing the distance between them greatly. “I want you to kiss me and I’m asking you to kiss me.” she states, the beginning of the sentence firm and the end almost inaudible as her eyes alternate distractedly between Emma’s lips and eyes. She hears Emma’s sharp intake of breath and closes her eyes briefly.

"Regina, are you sure?” Emma asks, already involuntarily closing the distance between them.

"As sure as I’ve been about anything in a very long time.”

Emma hesitates just for a second before leaning in and pressing her lips, so gently, against Regina’s. The brunette closes her eyes and lets the sensations flow freely through her body. She moves her lips against Emma’s, lips quirking up at the faint groan that rumbles at the base of the blonde’s throat and the fact that she can so distinctively feel it.

"Wow, okay” Emma whispers, flustered, and chuckles breathily while gently shaking her head. 

"Okay what?” Regina asks when Emma pulls back a little, still in inches away from the blonde.

"We need to stop now before it gets to a point where I won’t be able to stop.” she says, eyes fluttering closed, followed by a soft gasp when Regina’s hands graze her shoulders on their way up and snake into her hair in response to the admission.

"So don’t stop”

Emma shakes her head. "You’re drunk”

"So are you” Regina retorts, making Emma laugh.

"Exactly my point” she says and leans back, watching the brunette's hands land on her lap instead with sparkling eyes.

They remain seated for a while after, taking each other in, their mere presence enough to satisfy a deep, undefined need Regina didn’t even know she had. Emma is the first one to get up, and Regina follows suit.

"I think it’s best if I go now.” she says, reaching the door and turning to look at Regina. “You look truly lovely tonight.” she breathes out as she looks Regina up and down one more time. “I want to make this very clear,” she says, tone turning serious, and raises a hand to graze Regina’s cheek. “I’m not running away, I’m not going to regret it the minute I walk out. It’s not about that, okay?” Regina nods, automatically leaning into the comforting touch. She feels very vulnerable at that moment, not sure how to feel or react, and as if Emma actually senses it, she leans into another soft kiss, then stares intently into Regina’s eyes. “I’m going to go now, and it’s only because you deserve better than a drunk version of me, okay?”

"Okay” she nods, her voice a hair above a whisper.

"I’ll text you when I get home”

"Okay” she responds, chuckling lightly when Emma remains still, staring at her as if she’s about to break. Not that she can blame Emma for thinking that, but surprisingly so, she’s completely comfortable and at peace with what has transpired that night. She’s surprised to find that just like she remembered regarding that girl at the bar back when she was in college, kissing Emma, a woman, stirred and pulled completely different strings in her heart and soul. It makes her almost giddy, as she was fearing what had transpired tainted everything and everyone for Regina. But as it turns out, she may still have hope. “Really Emma, you can go.” she nudges the blonde and wears her most convincing expression. Of course she’s buzzing in all kinds of ways, and is charged by a desire to pull Emma back inside, but the blonde’s step back from the situation makes Regina’s chest tighten in a completely different, deeper way. And if Regina hadn’t trusted Emma until now, doing the right thing and having self-control definitely gives her a whole lot of extra points, especially since Emma seems to be as drunk as Regina is.

"Alright”

Halfway out the door she turns to Regina and adds with a large beam. “Happy birthday, Regina”

If Regina finds herself leaning against the door for a few moments after it closes, sighing contently as if she’s in a kitschy teenage romance novel, no one will ever know.

When she pushes herself off the door and grabs her pinging phone, a deep, rolling, laughter flows out of her effortlessly at the two messages alerts gracing the screen.

_Kathryn- Hey, just letting you know I’m feeling much better now. Will call you in the morning._

_Kathryn- And you’re welcome ;)_

"This woman...” Regina mumbles, places the phone back on the table and retreats to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though guys, if I’m not getting comments on that chapter someone is paying with blood. Well I’m kidding but not really, please let me know what you thought of the chapter so I know someone is still reading this story ;)


	22. Burdens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thank you for all of your amazing comments! Writing a comment takes a minute out of your day and makes mine! Please keep them coming, hopefully I wont have to return to threatening tactics lol ;) Good to know people still read this story, really motivates me to put the chapters out there faster. Anyway, enjoy!

**Chapter 22-**

**Burdens**

  


"Spill” Regina tells Kathryn as soon as the waitress scatters away with their order. It comes out a little harsher than she would have liked it to, but she has been anxious to know what it is Kathryn hasn’t been telling her. Besides, she knows the blonde won’t be offended by a little aggressiveness. If all, her best friend was almost immune to it, aggravated tones or hurtful words sliding off of her as if they were water on a shiny, smooth car. That’s why they got along in the first place; Kathryn seemed to overlook day to day misshapes and tantrums if she found the core of the person appealing.

"Excuse me?” her friend asks in return, wearing her demeanor of feigned innocence that has long stopped working on Regina. Her blue eyes gleaming with amusement, and the brunette finds herself shaking her head, trying to suppress a smile. She appreciated the underlines of rebellion and humor that graced even the serious topics whenever they spoke, the way it took some of the pressure, the up-tightness, off and allowed a calmer state of mind. Still, she wasn’t known for her patience.

"What’s going on? What are you hiding?” she insists eagerly, fingers tapping the wooden table mindlessly as she concentrates on the woman sitting across the table.

"How was the rest of your evening?” Kathryn replies dodgily, while a devilish streak colors her eyes. Kathryn has missed it, Regina realizes, their complex, yet easy, banter; The complete safety they felt around each other, their shared appreciation to wit, to sharp tongues and quick retorts. She recalls fondly how they used to have complete conversations feeding off of the other’s sarcastic remarks and light, yet accurate jabs. People would stare at first, frowning, confused as to why they were teasing each other to begin with, and then as to why they were amused by them rather than offended. In fact, it was one of those exchanges that caught Regina’s attention to begin with.

Growing up as the quiet, often addressed to as a nerd, and teased about it, Regina had developed her own little victories; it was those smart, teasing comebacks muttered under her nose, most of the times much too clever for the other side to catch on to even if they did hear her, that helped her get through those hard times. It was her way of fighting back without actually doing so. And even though this habit has subsided significantly as she got older and older, the inner walls have remained untouched, making her attitude against anyone unknown judging and distant. If the other party didn’t know they should be offended, was it really offensive to begin with?

And then there was Kathryn.

  


_"Regina!” a voice called excitedly, and the brunette turned in time to see a blonde mane rushing towards her. She picked up the glasses she had just put down and sighed once the blurry figure became sharp and clear. She rolled her eyes and glanced back at the lines and lines of numbers staring at her, reminding her she has a paper to submit tomorrow, and the she was definitely behind on her schedule._

_"Hey” Kathryn greeted with an easy smile once she reached the wooden table. Without asking, she plopped down, rested her grinning face on the palm of her hand and stared at Regina expectantly. “What are you doing?” she asked cheerfully, and the brunette couldn’t stop herself from saying “Homework” in the blankest, least engaging tone she could have come up with. No matter how she acted, how she barely communicated back on any attempt the blonde had made thus far, and hell, even verbally expressed her disinterest in any type of interaction, Kathryn wasn’t getting the message. The brunette wanted to be left alone. And even if she did decide to acquire a friend or two, for academic purposes of course, she would know better than to befriend to popular blonde. That was a mistake to be unrepeated._

_"No shit” Kathryn rolled her eyes, not taking the offense Regina intended her to take. “Is it calculus?” she asked, and the brunette grunted in return, already getting back to her paper. “Well if you need any help, by all means...” she shrugged and chuckled at the rather insulting raised eyebrow she received in return. “Yeah, surprising, I know.” she mused out loud. “You’d think the single brain cell I had would have been dedicated to drooling over guys and curling my blonde hair while I chew my gum. Well, sorry to disappoint,” she stated casually, already rising from her seat. “Wasn’t really into the dumb blonde concept. Instead, dedicated my glorious high school experience to finishing first year college calculus.” she smiled sweetly, yet knowingly, at a slightly gaping Regina. “So again, let me know if you need any help. Oh, and by the way, you do have a lovely ass, but you should consider taking your head out of there every once in a while, and, you know, increase the blood circulation to the area. Also, there’s a great world waiting for you out there, you really should check it out.” she winked, turned around gracefully and headed off with lightness to her steps, leaving a frowning, seemingly too-soon-to-judge, and slightly impressed, brunette behind._

  


They haven’t really had that since Regina took off all those months ago. She wasn’t in a state to realize that this distinctive part of their friendship had gone, and that Kathryn, who was lucky to have received a single text in the weeks following that night, probably felt hesitant to bring the strong-minded sharpness back into their fragile connection. And for the first time Regina stops to consider what her complete breakdown must have caused to the people in her life. She didn’t have many that she cared about, but even those important few completely fled her mind as she tried to keep her head above water. She’s surprised it has taken her this long to consider people other than herself, and feels the slight pang at that selfish behavior. She vows to dedicate more time to it when she’s having her sessions with Archie, and shuts it down for the moment, bringing herself back to the person in front of her.

"You’re not getting anything until _I_ get some answers.” Regina insists while folding her hands defiantly, trying her hardest to maintain a straight face.

"Fine” Kathryn huffs, rolling her eyes. She leans back into her chair, a gentle smile blooming on her lips. “I want to make something clear first, I _am_ changing my lifestyle” she starts, and Regina already opens her mouth to call bullshit on that when Kathryn halts her and finishes her sentence. “No alcohol in the next few months, I hear it’s bad for the baby.” It takes Regina a good few seconds to digest to words and their meaning and then she’s charging forward, nearly sends the table and both them toppling down as she hugs her best friend tightly.

"Oh god” she breathes out excitedly, unbelievingly, into Kathryn’s skin. “I’m going to be an aunt!”

"Damn right you are” the blonde confirms, emotion lacing her voice, hugging Regina a little tighter while saying that; both not minding the numerous gazes they have managed to attract. When they finally part Regina is buzzing with sensations, so many questions flying through her head that she barely manages to voice out a single one.

"Wait so- So that’s why you came here? To tell me?” she asks, energy still coursing through her veins, and instinctively grabs Kathryn’s hand.

"Actually, there were quite a few reasons. First, I wanted to see you. But yes, I also really wanted to tell you in person. Your birthday was coming up and it felt like the perfect opportunity pay a visit.” she pauses when the waitress places their chosen beverages on the table. “And on top of all that I was just cleared the other day. It’s common to keep the pregnancy a secret until you go through the first trimester successfully, and I preferred not to jinx it.” she shakes her head, chuckling. “But like I said, I was just cleared.” she flashes a megawatt smile and Regina matches it immediately.

"You’re already three months in? God, Kathryn, I’m so happy for you! You’re going to be a great mom.” she says softly.

"You think?” Kathryn asks, mindlessly chewing her bottom lip. Regina’s chest tightens at the flash of insecurity. She can only imagine how scary it might be, but she has no doubt that Kathryn is going to excel motherhood like she does everything else. Her best friend is nothing short of the perfect combination of intelligence, responsibility and heart. Regina is certain that baby will get everything it needs and more from his parents.

“I _know_ you will be.” she promises. “I can only imagine how good looking your baby will turn up to be.” she huffs jokingly, shaking her head to the sound Kathryn’s chuckle.

“Kiss ass” she accuses and takes a sip of her cup of tea. “And that’s not all,” she adds “I’m going to have to stop working at some point. I was thinking, maybe I could relocate for a while on my time off. You know how I always adored this city, and Fred can work from anywhere.” she shrugs, her questioning gaze on Regina.

"You’re moving here.” Regina repeats, still unbelieving.

"I want to, yes”

"Not that I’m not incredibly excited at the possibility that I will get to have my best friend minutes away from me instead of hours,” she assures quickly, and then frowns. “But what will you do once your maternity leave is over? Move the baby back to Chicago? That sounds like quite a hassle.”

Kathryn stares at her quietly for a moment, teeth worrying her lower lip. “Well,” she starts, thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about a change for quite a while now.” she admits. “I’m not sure about anything yet, but those few months here would definitely be a nice trial with minimum risk.”

"And then what?” Regina asks, intrigued. Of course, she would be unbelievable happy if her best friend, that constitutes as family in those recent years, would move to the city. Especially since Regina finds herself unable to vision her future Chicago anymore. With that said, she has to make sure Kathryn does what’s best for herself, not for Regina.

"We’ll see. I’ve been entertaining starting new, maybe even starting something of my own, professionally. It feels like the best course of action, especially once the baby is born and I can be in charge of my own hours.”

"Wow, that’s- that’s quite a change.” Regina breathes out after a small pause.

"I agree, but if I decide to go through with something like that, then it is best to do it before we settle down with a kid.” Kathryn reasons and Regina hums thoughtfully.

"Yes, I guess that makes sense. What does Fred think about all of that?”

"He’s supportive. Also, very fond of the thought of not having to pay for a babysitter. You know, since you’d be right there.” Kathryn wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and Regina tilts her head back and laughs heartily. “But enough about me, I want to talk about you for a minute.”

"Okay?”

“I assume you’re not coming back, right?”

"Definitely not” Regina determines immediately, cringing at the mere thought of doing that.

"Good, you shouldn't go back, you’re better off doing literally anything else. Which also brings me to what I wanted to say: Don’t quit.” Kathryn stresses. Noting Regina’s confused expression, she quickly adds. “I know it’s burning in you to do just that, and I can’t blame you for wanting to cut the ties, especially since you have made up your mind about moving on. But as a lawyer, I urge you to look at it from a legal point of view. I read more into workplace suits and sexual harassment suits and every article revolving this subject suggests you should keep your job for as long as you can. Let them fire you. It would work in your favor when it comes to work compensation and especially if you plan on pressing charges.” Kathryn halts, takes a breath and adds gently. “Which is something I personally think you should consider doing.”

It takes Regina a moment to assemble her thoughts. She nods faintly and moves on to tell Kathryn about her recent conversations with Archie and her thoughts on the matter. When she’s done, her mug of coffee can hardly be called warm. She heaves out an exhausted, yet relieved sigh as the last word falls from her lips; a sigh that seems to take at least a few good pounds off her.

And again, she’s flabbergasted at how she had managed to walk around with all these burdens; Their troubling influence and discouraging effects becoming clear only once they ease off of her, methodically, as each day passes.

  


***

  


"Regina?” Archie questions, his curious gaze landing on the notebook clasped in her hands the minute she steps into his office.

"I wanted to read something from it.” she explains, registering his surprise at that. She lowers herself into the plush sofa, fingers already ghosting over the written pages in search of that one specific paragraph. She hadn’t read from that notebook in a very long time. Like Archie had explained when he raised the idea, it wasn’t about her reading it to him as much as it was about her writing her feelings down. To her surprise, she has kept writing in it, finding the act of imprinting her thoughts down on a piece of paper as liberating as it was binding.

"By all means” Archie encourages, gesturing for her to take the lead, looking genuinely pleased at the turn of events.

"As you probably figured by now, I’m still writing things in here. Recently I was leafing through it when I came across one of the first confessions I wrote in here, and I couldn’t not compare it to what I wrote a moment prior and note to stark difference. I don’t know,” she shrugs sheepishly, eyes casting down inevitably. “I guess I wanted to share?”

"That’s great, Regina,” Archie smiles broadly, and is it a flash of pride that she notes in his features? “I’d love to hear whatever it is you’re willing to share.”

She clears her throat self-consciously and realizes she has placed way too much pressure grasping that single page. She releases her grip, straightens it gently before focusing on the words scribbled on it. “So, as I’ve said, this is something I wrote a long time ago, right when we started, I believe.” she takes a deep breath. Out with it. “ _It has been snowing for almost two days now. Pure, untouched snow, light in complexion and in weight, coloring the city white. Yet, all I see is gray and black, murkiness. As hard as I try, I cannot concentrate on the uplifting side of it, and scares me that it’s just how I see life now; a downward spiral, that even if begins as white, will finish as dark and grimy, once stepped on._ ” she finishes in a whisper almost, and has to take a minute to stable her wobbly lip before she can look back up and meet Archie’s gaze.

"Regina-” Archie starts and she motions him to halt, smiling apologetically at her rude interruption. This is not what she wants to him focus on. There is no reason to dwell on it now, months after it was written. This is not what she feels now, she has changed. Which is why she quickly finds her recent scribbles and begins reading them aloud.

"And this is what I wrote just days ago. _It’s April now. I moved here in September, yet I don’t remember the city being as light and warm as it is now. Maybe it has to do with internal changes because the colorful flowers that have yet to bloom are already covering the city in my eyes, and their smell intoxicates my nose the minute I step outside; the breeze isn’t a silent threat of arrows to hit my face anymore, the clouds aren’t a promise of rain or snow, but a mere shadow that blocks the sun for a moment. I like it better than the summer, I like it better than September. It hasn’t arrived yet, it’s all in my head, a promise of what to come; and if it’s already good enough, I can’t wait to see what follows._ ”

"That’s-” Archie speaks up after a moment of silence, looking intently at her. “That was lovely Regina. Not just from a psychological and progress points of view, which we will discuss in a bit. But also, just as a written piece. I think you have a great talent there,” he pauses to clean his spectacles with his shirt before continuing. “I think you should continue writing, excluding this notebook as well.”

She nods curtly, cheeks heating just a little, murmurs a _Thank you_ and promises to consider.

  


***

  


She steps outside his office and immediately reaches for her phone. She has to check her schedule now when setting an appointment with Archie, has so much going on in her life at the moment; whether it’s volunteering at the library, spending time with Kathryn, going to the self-defense classes or just taking the time to see Emma, Regina is fully booked. In such contrast to the days she could barely commit to a session, solely due to proper functioning reasons, Regina finds herself flourishing as more and more projects, even those decided upon and conducted by herself in her own apartment, are added to her daily routine. And the more she has on her plate, the more she realizes how much she should consider getting a job, to be and feel productive again.

A smile spreads on her face as soon as she unlocks her phone and finds texts from Emma.

_Emma- Hey… I know it’s only been a day, but would you want to go to dinner with me?_

_Emma- Like today, I meant today._

_Emma- But other days would do to._

_Emma- Fuck, I’m awkward._

_Emma- Sorry…_

Regina’s still chuckling as she begins to compose a reply when her phone pings with another incoming message. Seems like she’s rather popular today, she notes with amusement.

_Katelyn (Library)- Help._

Regina frowns, immediately pressing the call button and waits for Katelyn to answer.

"Hello?” the older woman picks up, even her short greeting sounding a little out of breath.

"Is everything okay?”

"No.” she heaves, and Regina can hear some loud yelling in the background. “Lea can’t come today. Apparently, she has finals and she forgot to let me know she couldn’t show up today. Which usually wouldn’t be a big deal but today I have the kids from The Greenwich Village Elementary School and I could barely have handled it with one other person, let alone- Honey don’t touch that! I said don’t touch-- Excuse me ma'am? Ma'am? Please take this boy away from those piles, he could get hurt. Thank you. Regina?”

"I’m here”

"Yes, sorry. As I was saying, I need help. Can you come give me a hand?”

"Today?”

"No, yesterday. Yes, today. Regina darling, focus.”

"Sorry. Yes, I’ll come. Would you mind if I bring someone with me?”

"The more the merrier. Thank you, I have to go now. See you soon.” And the line clicks shut.

Regina stares at her phone for a moment, trying to recover from the eventful call. She shakes herself out of it after a moment and texts Emma, hoping the blonde wouldn’t mind spending her evening chasing disobedient, hyperactive kids.


	23. That woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am here (and I am queer, but that’s besides the point haha)
> 
> After months of the worst writer’s blockage I have ever experienced the gates finally opened. I hope the words and chapters keep flowing! I will be away, traveling, for the most of September so no writing will be done then. I will try to squeeze another chapter before that, but if I can’t, I will see you in October.
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think! It always helps me push forward :)

 

**Chapter 23-**

_**That** _ **woman**

  


She turns to look at the bunch of shirts currently sprawled on her bed and sighs.

Regina was never one to dawdle much with her attire, as her closet was pretty much consisting of nothing other than tailored-to-perfection work clothes. Whether it was a skintight, attention-commanding dress, or a nice, crisp button-down shirt paired with slick trousers or fitted mid-thigh skirts. Either way, getting dressed to work in the mornings was never an issue for the brunette. And if she’s being honest, Regina never quite understood the fuzz around clothing. Yes, they served a purpose, in her case a professional look aiming to assert her position and power in a man-dominated firm, but as long as this goal was being achieved, as long as she looked presentable and therefore was respected, what else was there consider when it came to clothing?

Of course, she had also kept a few more casual choices, but those were rarely used. As Regina has come to understand in the months following the move, she didn’t really have anything else in her life other than work back in Chicago. Even weekends were often spent doing work-related things, and therefore required work-appropriate clothes. The brunette always had to look her best when around her coworkers, vowing very early in the game to never provide them with the faintest of excuses to treat her differently than they did the other guys they worked with. In fact, Regina had managed to build an untouchable perfect reputation that earned her quite the respect, and even some recoilment in the positive sense of the word. People didn’t cross her, didn’t challenge her; She was taken seriously and was very content with that, but that level of perfection required quite the armor, and the armor required a lot of her.

Those two main groups of clothes had been abandoned when Regina packed her things and fled Chicago in September. Following that transition, her relation with her attire switched from being about dominance, confidence, power, to making sure she blended so much in the crowd she could be considered invisible. That translated to going with garments that hid her body, rather the accentuate it. Her whole being became about minimizing herself, eliminating anything that could attract the people around her, grab their attention. The 180 degrees switch she had almost mindlessly made is baffling to her when she pauses to think about it. She’s quite sure everyone who knew her in the recent few years would raise their eyebrows all the way to their hairlines if they saw her today. She wondered more than once or twice during the last few months whether the changes she had unconsciously and then consciously made were indeed solely to protect herself from her environment or held a deeper effect, an internal one. Regina hasn’t really approached that topic with Archie, not much with herself either, fearing what she might find if she dug deep enough, but it hasn’t escaped her that her need to hide herself may have come from inside as well. It wouldn’t be shocking to her to realize that the assault may have changed the way Regina felt about her own body. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to see it either.

The brunette didn’t look too much into this notion, it was much easier to just ignore it. Sometimes it felt like there was so much on her plate that if she added one other thing she would simply collapse. Some topics were undeniable, un-ignorable, but this one, this one could be pushed back down to the pit of her stomach; at least until comes a better time to address it.

Somewhere along the way, that perception, that no less than surviving mechanism, began to change. It wasn’t a sudden awakening, an embracing of the person she was before as if nothing had transpired, but it was a start. The fact that Regina is standing in front of her closet, trying to find something suitable to wear that isn’t a dark-colored turtleneck paired with a shapeless pair of pants is a start, and a very encouraging one. It’s also a very confusing situation for Regina, that never found herself trying on multiple shirts for a simple afternoon spent in the library. Only it isn’t that ordinary, isn’t it?

Her phone rings, the sound muffled by the walls separating Regina from her living room, where the device is being charged. She isn’t really in the mood to talk, can’t afford it either; she’s already taken too long to choose what to wear and Katelyn is probably drowning all by herself. But then again, Regina could use the distraction from the unwelcome, and frankly way too deep for the moment, direction her inner thoughts had taken.

Though she _has_ taken her sweet time to make it to the phone, Regina huffs in annoyance when the phone quiets down just as she reaches it. She turns around, set on heading back to her previous task when it blares again. Regina frowns upon the random number that appears on the screen. The number is not one she’s familiar with, yet recalls seeing multiple times as a missed call in the past week. Whoever this person is, they’re persistent and so she decides to grant them their heart’s wish and accepts the call.

"Hello?” she asks hesitatingly as she disconnects the device from the charger and brings it to her ear.

"Regina?” a man’s voice replies, the background noises threatening the out-win the speaker.

"Yes?” she questions, and flinches as more rustling sounds crack loudly in her ear. She distances herself from the phone and returns it only once the unpleasant sounds quiet down.

"Sorry about that. It’s Brian Doyle, hi.”

"Brian?” Regina calls in surprise after taking a moment to search in her head for the rest of the information regarding the man.

"The one and only” he jokes and Regina smiles faintly at that. If she were to receive any type of call related to her old workplace, other than Kathryn of course, Regina would have chosen Brian Doyle.

Brian was a fifty-something years old businessman with gray hair slowly charging from the outlines of his head towards the middle of it and an untypically young spirit to fight that. The man dabbled in various types of businesses, some might say with recklessness uncharacteristic for his level of success; a trait which would make him the perfect client for any law firm. Every attempt at his professional life, not thought out to the fullest, had resulted in many billable hours for the firm. But despite his sometimes frustrating lack of foresight when it came to legal trouble, Regina had to admit that he was one of her favorites. He always had a smile on his face and a joke to accompany his row of pearly white teeth so that he wouldn’t end up being the only one smiling. He was easy and nice to work with and that was already more than could be said about the bigger part of Goldman, Blanchard and Assoc’s clients. Brian was the first case Regina was assigned to; and as a new, and anxious to do well intern, the brunette couldn’t ask for anyone better. They both took an instant liking to each other, and, from then on, Regina would be the only lawyer to take care of Brian’s escapades, to his request.

Regina hadn’t spoken to Brian since she left. It makes her wonder what he was told regarding that whole thing. She’s pretty sure even the best, well-constructed explanation prompted a stream of questions from his side; questions that at best were answered vaguely and unsatisfyingly so, if answered at all. Which, knowing Brian and his unwillingness to receive poor responses to his inquiries, led them to this talk.

"How are you?” she asks warmly, genuinely interested.

"I’m good, I’m good” he assures and his smile is evident in his tone. “What about you, miss MIA?”

She chuckles, ignores the end of his question when she answers with “I’m doing well, thank you. What trouble have you gotten yourself into now?” she asks with a smile, can’t think of any other reason he would go to the length of acquiring her personal number if it weren’t for that. She finds that she doesn’t really mind. Another client, or shall she say former client, might not have received the same positive sentiment, but Brian held a place in her very selective heart.

His rolling laughter fills her ear, making her smile. "Ugh, Regina you know me so well!”

As she waits for him to continue, she begins making her way back to her bedroom. Knowing that once this call ends she would really have to dress quickly and head out.

"You should have seen my expression of absolute terror when I scheduled an appointment to discuss my latest mishap and came over to find out that Timothy guy waiting for me. That useless, bland prick.”

"Brian!” she calls out, despite knowing that there’s wasn’t actual malice in his tone and that Timothy _was_ a useless prick. “Be nice, he’s your lawyer now” she adds cheekily and laughs when Brian grunts in response.

"Unacceptable, I’ll just have to avoid any stupid mistakes until you return.”

Regina bites her lip at that, trying to determine if and how she should approach this situation. Officially, she’s still an employee at the firm, but letting Brian on and make him think there is any chance for her to return is unfair towards him. And so she finds herself saying softly “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

"What do you mean?” Brian asks, confused.

"It’s not official yet but it’s heading that way.”

"Heading where?”

"I will be leaving the firm soon. In fact, I haven’t physically been in Chicago since September.”

She swallows thickly as she waits for Brian’s response. Weirdly enough, his opinion of her and her decisions still seems to matter to her. She truly will be sad to not be working with him anymore, as it was rare to come across a person, as successful as Brian was, that was aware of his weaknesses and blind spots, that was willing to put his ego aside and entrust his reputation in Regina’s hands when needed to. Most of the issues Regina dealt with were simply due to her clients’ inexplicable need to push back on everything she advised them to do, even though all she was trying to do it fix their problems.

"Okay,” he says after a moment’s consideration. “I’ll move with you to your new firm then” he states as if it’s the simplest, most expected step.

Regina’s eyes widen in surprise, and a soft warmness spreads in her chest at his unanticipated but charming loyalty. The brunette is only now truly realizing how she had nothing else in her life back in Chicago but work and it’s nice to know that at least some of the people she works with and for, cared.

"I’m, I’m not sure I’ll be joining a firm anytime soon.” she says slowly, not sure whether she should mention her thoughts of going freelance.

"Regina,” he pauses and exhales loudly before continuing, determined. “I just want to work with you. I don’t care if you go solo or reenter the corporate world. All I know is that I tried three other lawyers in Goldman, Blanchard and Assoc. and none of them were remotely as professional and a pleasure to work with as you.”

Regina smiles at that and releases a sigh a moment later. “I have to think about it” she admits, deciding to go with honesty. She isn’t willing to provide him with an answer to a question she had only now begun to ponder, just for the sake of providing it then and there.

"Sure thing, sleep on it and get back to me. And Regina?” he asks, continues only after she hums in acknowledgment. “I don’t care about how much it’s going to cost or the fact that you’re not in Chicago. I rarely come across people that I like, personally and professionally, and when I do find them I don’t let go easily. I would very much like to work with you. If you decide on going solo, it might even be a great first step for you.”

His logic isn’t lost on Regina. It might be just what she needs to get back into work. If she will take Brian on as a client it would guarantee some workload that she’s desperately craving as well as a very gentle, almost protective and enabling way to start a business that might not be the easiest to build. Even if she decides not to go in that direction eventually, having one client won’t really get in the way of anything else she might choose to do. And even if it somehow does, she doubts those changes would get to that level anytime soon.

Regina has a lot to think about, a lot to consider. Yes, she had pondered that thought ever since Kathryn mentioned it as a possibility in their FaceTime call all those weeks ago, the idea becoming even more permanent upon learning Kathryn possible future plans to reconsider a classic office job and also start her own thing when the baby is born. But despite having that idea in her head for quite some time now, it was only a theoretical concept thus far. If Regina chooses to take Brian on as a client, it all becomes very real, very quickly. She would have to put some serious thought into what she wants to start and how to go at it, in details. It’s not going to be easy, and there sure as hell is going to be a backlash from the firm, once they find out about Brian moving his business to her. They would look at it as poaching, even if it really isn’t, and that will have consequences. She’s going to have to consider all of that, and seriously so.

Though now is not the time, she realizes it when the call ends and she notices the time. She winces and rushes towards the pile of shirts she left on her bed and fishes out a cream-colored blouse, not very detailed, but elegant and flattering and as far as Regina can determine, doesn’t scream I tried too hard.

She puts it on and matches it with a pair of high waisted black jeans and boots all while shaking her head. She has no idea when she had become _that_ woman; chuckles, when she realizes it has taken a woman, to make Regina _that_ woman.

"Emma Swan, what have you done to me” she mumbles halfheartedly to herself while grabbing her keys and heading out of the apartment.

  


***

  


She barely makes it through the door when a boy half her size nearly crashes into her, pulled back last minute by whom she assumes is one of the teachers.

"Troy” the woman hisses in a perfectly mastered combination of softness and determination. “Go back, now. I’m sorry” she turns to Regina once the kid goes back to his group, not before almost knocking down a pile of recently returned books. “I’m Lori, one of the teachers” she introduces herself with a smile.

"Regina” the brunette nods in return, taking in the woman’s attire; her light brown hair scooped into a practical bun, her simple yet dignified clothes are already positively wrinkled. She seems rather young, probably in her late twenties, and yet to be worn down by the overly energetic group of kids she is in charge of.

"Nice to meet you, Regina. If you could please just pay attention to the door, make sure no one manages to escape this horrible torture chamber” she rolls her eyes playfully, motioning to the warm and inviting library.

Regina smiles at the gentle jab, already forming a positive impression of the teacher. "Absolutely, don’t worry” she assures her just as a high pitch shriek is heard, immediately hushed by one of the other teachers supervising the group.

"I gotta...” Lori trails off apologetically, thumb pointing at the group of kids that are currently seated in the reading section, and from the looks of it, only partially cooperative.

"Go ahead, I got this” she promises, making herself at home at Katelyn’s table as she watches Lori hurry back to the group.

"Regina!” Katelyn calls excitedly as soon as she comes into sight. She approaches the table, her walk brisk and energetic despite the shiny layer of sweat apparent on her forehead, and not for the first time the brunette wonders how the hell does this seventy-year-old woman manage not only to keep up, but run the show. “Thank you so much for coming darling, you’re a lifesaver.”

"It’s nothing” Regina dismisses a moment later, as usual, not the best at taking compliments, and shrugs. “Happy to help.” Katelyn squeezes her shoulder in gratitude regardless and then looks around, searching, before returning to Regina.

"Didn’t you mention a plus one?” she inquires and the brunette has to actively prevent herself from looking as flustered as she immediately feels.

"Yes, I did.” she clears her throat and gives her best attempt at nonchalance. “She’s on her way.”

"She? Wait, who is this _she_ anyway?”

"Emma”

“Why does the name sound so familiar?” Katelyn wonders out loud, looking at Regina for answers.

“She is my self-defense instructor, I probably have mentioned her in the past.” Regina provides, already sensing the direction this conversation might be heading towards. Katelyn is extremely perceptive and knows way too much about Regina by now, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to tag Emma along for this, the brunette realizes all of a sudden.

"Your self-defense instructor is coming to help you help me with the kids.” Katelyn repeats slowly, her tone conveying exactly how weird, if not suspicious, she finds that.

"Yes”

"Wait-” the old Librarian straightens as understanding and excitement wash over her, face lighting up.

"Katelyn” Regina’s already shaking her head, her faint warning coming out as a sigh.

"Is she the one...” Katelyn wonders off, letting her suggestive expression and wiggling eyebrows finish the sentence for her. Regina rolls her eyes, cheeks heating before she looks blankly at the librarian.

"Regina” Katelyn calls out in surprise, a wide smile spreading on her face as she gives Regina an assessing look-over. “I would have never taken you for a ladies lady.”

"Guys work too.” she finds herself mumbling, and how the hell has she managed to bring herself to discuss her sexuality with Katelyn?

"My my,” the older woman chuckles, impressed. “You remind me more of myself than I would have ever pegged you for.”

Regina's head snaps up in surprise. She was not expecting that response. A more old-school one, for sure, but then again has she not learned by now that Katelyn is nothing remotely close to conventional. “I do?”

Her company hums in return, smiling nostalgically. “Good ol’ Woodstock times. Ugh, I miss those years when people didn’t care.”

And as much as Regina wishes to ask Katelyn what exactly she means by that, she is halted by the sight of a familiar blonde woman peering curiously into the library, eyes searching; that until they land on Regina.

"Made it” Emma calls out as she steps in and Regina is helpless to the grin that blossoms on her face, in spite of Katelyn’s hardly discreet stare following her every move.

"Did you think you wouldn’t?” Regina questions and places a soft hand on Emma’s shoulder.

"For a moment, yeah” Emma retorts and breaks into a chuckle. “Lower Manhattan confuses the hell out of me.”

"You mean the streets that have proper names, like literally anywhere else in the world?” Regina asks teasingly.

Emma nods passionately, not before sticking her tongue out at the smirking brunette. “Once you get used to the simple logic of numbers and grid-like structure, when you head downtown you’re lost in a heartbeat.”

"And look at that, you managed to make it here, against the odds.”

"I did” Emma confirms with a chuckle. She takes a long look around, then focuses on Regina again, as if seeing her for the first time just now. “Hey” she breathes out, her expression softening.

"Hey” Regina returns, smiling at the hand that circles her waist and pulls her until her front is just touching Emma’s side.

"I missed you” the blonde says with a knowing smile and Regina rolls her eyes bemusedly.

"It’s only been a day” she points out.

"Still” Emma shrugs in response and places a soft kiss on her cheek. “Thank for inviting me, I love kids.”

"I highly doubt you’ll still think that by the end of the day.” Regina replies, her fingers gently trailing to the base of Emma’s blonde hair out of their own accord. Emma hums softly, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before locking with hers again. It is so very intimate, pulls so deeply in Regina’s chest, that she’s surprised when the usual instinct to runaway refuses to appear. Instead, she just feels content and safe.

"Okay, lovebirds” Katelyn calls out in faux impatience, pulling Emma away from Regina and turning her by the shoulders to face the group of kids. “Blondie, you’re on kids’ duty. Make sure they stay in the area they are currently in and that they’re alive by the end of it.”

“You got it, boss” Emma replies and Katelyn smiles, pleased.

“I like her” she informs Regina before walking Emma towards the seating section. The brunette shakes her head at the absurdity of the situation as she reclaims her seat.


End file.
